Father House
by house-of-insanity
Summary: Dr. House is in clinic duty, for once. He meets a fiery young woman with a tongue to match his own…not to mention DNA. Yes, folks, you heard it here first: Gregory House has a daughter. And little do they know, her clock is ticking…COMPLETE.
1. Haven't We Met Before?

Disclaimer: Don't own it, but thanks for letting me play with it! It's been a pleasure to try to write something excellent with the fabulous characters created on this show.

Summary: Dr. House is in clinic duty…for once, he hasn't escaped it. He meets a fiery young woman with a tongue to match his own…not to mention DNA. Yes, folks, you heard it here first: Gregory House has a daughter. And little do they know, her clock is ticking…(Also, at some point in this story, you might wonder where Stacey is. To put it delicately…I haven't bothered including her. This has a lot to do with another woman from House's past, so she won't show up anywhere.)

Anyway, enjoy this, I hope it matches the caliber of some of the work I've seen on here. I wouldn't be a true fan-fic writer if I didn't ask for reviews…anything you can tell me would be much appreciated. Alright, enough from me.

* * *

"Clinic duty?" Wilson asked, trying to keep up with House. Jesus, for having a bum leg, he was so _fast_! "You hate clinic duty! Why, all of a sudden, are you actually doing this part of your job?"

"I've fallen madly in love with Cuddy and I'm trying to impress her," House answered sarcastically. "You idiot, she stole my Vidocin! She's holding it hostage in exchange for two hours of this hell out of me."

"How'd she manage that?" Wilson was fascinated. Usually Cuddy employed reason and wit to get what she wanted out of House. What she had done was positively…illegal. "You could report her to…someone," he tried. "I'm sure there must be some law forbidding this heinous act."

House shook his head. "I haven't got time. That would take months, at best. I needed that stuff back yesterday. My leg hurts like hell."

"She had it yesterday?"

"Try to keep up with the rest of the class," House requested patiently, as he flipped through some files he was holding. "It's an expression, kind of like, 'Screw you.'"

Wilson backed away, hands up a la surrender. "Okay, I can see this isn't gonna work out. But you just think about this the next time you decide not to do your job. I won't always have extra batteries for your Pacman and those little Cheez-Its you seem to like so much." He reviewed that in his mind. It sounded good. Much better than anything House had come up with today.

"Yes, you will," House countered. "No one here will eat them but me. What are you going to do with them?" House looked up. The little weasel was gone! Oh, well. He'd learn from his mistakes in his own time. Meanwhile, it was about time he got his clinic duty underway.

"Patient numero uno," he said. "Julia Peterson, age 19, room 213." House glanced up, attempting to get his bearings straight. Damn. He really hadn't been doing his job. He didn't even know his way around the clinic anymore.

"Excuse me," he said to a passing nurse. "Where's room 213?"

"That way," she told him, pointing. "The third to your left." She squinted at him. "Aren't you a doctor here?"

"Listen here, Kim," he said, reading her name tag. "It doesn't matter if I'm a doctor here. What matters is if you're a nurse here, and whether or not you plan on keeping it that way. Do you understand what I'm telling you?" She nodded slowly. "Good. Go take care of someone." She rolled her eyes and walked away.

House went to room 213 and opened the door. "Ms. Peterson?"

"That's me," she said, smiling brightly. She instantly annoyed him, seeming to be one of those happy-go-lucky types of girls that always had the glass half-full. Kind of like Cameron, except maybe this one wouldn't fall victim to his ravishing good looks and charming personality right away.

"Okay, I'm Dr. House, I'll be working with you today, and I'm already bored with this. So, what's wrong? We'll see if I can do that magic trick where I diagnose you in three words or less," he said, leaning back against the wall.

Julia Peterson didn't bat an eye, but coughed a great deal before she replied. "I've heard a lot about you, Dr. House."

"I have a fan club now? Maybe I should consider a restraining order," House commented dryly.

"Don't flatter yourself," she continued, her peppy voice and lighthearted tone now sounding forced. Her smile appeared to be glued to her face as well, like a Barbie's. "Everything I know about you is pretty unsavory, and your attitude isn't helping much."

"Obviously you must at least think I'm intelligent, if you bothered to come in here to see if I could treat you," he countered. "You're being an unfair bitch."

She grinned, her expression looking real again. "You're being a cynical asshole, so I guess we're even. Listen, before we get to the medical stuff, look at me and tell me what's wrong up here." She tapped her temple lightly.

"You're the only thing preventing me from a date with a box of crackers and some quality time with my Gameboy," he suggested.

"Mom was right," Julia observed, shaking her head. "You really are blind."

"I'm crippled, not blind," he said. "If I was, Jesus sure would have to deal out the miracles. But that's getting off the subject; religion is one of Dr. Chase's many issues. Who's Mom?"

"What, you can't tell?" she asked, sounding disappointed. "So in addition to being a cynical asshole, you're also a complete moron?"

"Cut the crap," House shot at her icily. "I'm sick of the games. Who the hell are you, and why are you wasting my time?"

"It's really cold in here," Julia said suddenly. It didn't look to him like she was messing with his head; either she was an excellent actress or those were real goosebumps on her arms. "Do you have a blanket or something?"

"You know what?" House said irritably. "I'm leaving. I'll get Wilson to deal with you."

"Does the name 'Alma' mean anything to you?" she asked, easing herself off the examination table onto the floor. Of course she would stop him if she had to. Nothing stopping _her_.

That stopped him dead in his tracks.

He twisted around and shut the door loudly. It made Julia jump.

House approached her quickly, getting so close to her she could smell his breath. Thank God he was an obsessive mint-chewer. "How the hell do you know Alma, and you'd better not mess with me," he said quietly, dangerously.

"She's my mother," Julia spat back at him. "I thought we had pretty much established that."

"So what do you have to do with me?" he asked.

"Try genetics," she said coolly. "And you might want to back up a little bit. I get a little defensive when people get this close to me."

"I'm not going anywhere until you tell me who the fuck you are in relation to me."

"Well," Julia said slowly. House sighed and put his head in his hands. He had known this Julia Peterson for all of two minutes and already she had made him more miserable than Cuddy and Cameron put together. "This wasn't exactly the tearful reunion I was expecting to have with you…Dad."

He glanced up at her sharply. "Dad?"

Julia nodded somberly. He desperately wanted to believe she was just playing around with him again, but her wintry blue eyes told him she wasn't, in more ways that one. They did, after all, mirror his own and in them no mischief was detected. "Yeah. I'm your daughter."

House dropped his cane. Any lesser man might have fainted, or at least cried. Any stronger man would have asked her how she found him. He didn't know what to think. Surely it wasn't possible. And yet…it was very obvious it was.

"So, what do I call you?" Julia asked, smiling again, trying to make light of the bomb she had just dropped. "Daddy? Papa? Father House?"


	2. Danger Ahead

Thanks for all the reviews, you guys! I much appreciate the time you take to give me feedback, and the compliments just made my day. Anyway, here's chapter two, I hope you enjoy it.

* * *

Wilson was busy examining Mrs. Steinbeck in room 215, and it was all he could do not to gag. Her putrid stench and gruesome excuse for hygiene were easily the only problems she had to worry about. No, scratch that – there was also the fact that she'd been sitting around eating ice cream for approximately 53 years. She was a large as a building!

"So doctor," she said, her voice sounding wheezy and sickly sweet. "What's the problem?"

"Well," he said slowly, knowing women didn't take kindly to being called fat. "Mrs. Steinbeck, I must be very frank with you in order for us to be able to maintain your health. Do you understand the term 'obesity'?"

"No, no, no, not _that_ problem," she corrected him. "I mean, you seem kind of spaced out today, distracted."

_House_, he thought. _The man's addicted to the pills. Vicodin controls his life. And Cuddy's using it to destroy him! How did I end up working with these people?_

Mrs. Steinbeck leaned closer, and he wasn't sure, but it looked very much like she had just winked at him. "It's okay, you know," she whispered.

"What's okay?" he asked, afraid of the answer.

"I won't tell," she assured him softly. "Even doctors can't be immune to sexy older women, you know."

_Oh, God._ He was going to hurl. He was going to vomit all over her chocolate stained dress. He was going to…

"Wilson!" Never had he been so happy to hear that man's voice. "Go to room 213. Take care of Julia Peterson. I can't do it." House shoved the file in his direction.

"What do you mean you can't do it?" Wilson asked.

"I refuse to do it," House said sharply. He glanced at Mrs. Steinbeck. "I'll take care of Mrs. Clause here. What, has your hubby been sneaking all the cookies back to you? No wonder he was looking a little thinner when he slid down the chimney this year."

She sniffed disdainfully at him and stomped out.

"Good job," Wilson said admirably. "But I don't get it. What's wrong with this Julia Peterson?"

"She's crazy, that's what," House exclaimed. "She…" He couldn't bring himself to say it. _She thinks she's my daughter. _"She's madly in love with me. It's like having a thousand Camerons following me everywhere I go."

Wilson rolled his eyes. How egotistical could the man possibly get? "Alright, fine, I'll go take care of her. You just stay here and recover from that horrific experience. I'm sure it must be very traumatizing, having all these gorgeous young women trying to seduce you constantly."

Of course, Wilson meant that sarcastically, but House shouted, "Thank-you!" as he left. As soon as the door clicked shut, House went and laid down on the examination table. He replayed in his mind the conversation that had ensued.

"_Yeah," she had said softly. "I'm your daughter."_

_He wanted to die. He wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole, just like in that "It's A Wonderful Life" film at the part with the pool. His first instinct was to deny it. It was crazy…and yet, unfortunately, also very logical. It was possible, he had to admit._

"_So, what do I call you?" Julia had continued. "Daddy? Papa? Father House?"_

_He regained his senses very quickly. "If you refer to me as anything other than Dr. House, I will beat you to death with my cane. I'm sure I can come up with some extra punishment before you draw your last breath if you use that last one. Father House."_

"_Look, _Doctor_," she countered sarcastically. "I know this is probably hard for you to accept. You thought you were alone in the world, and now I show up. Let me assure you, I'm no big responsibility. I'm a good kid, pretty self-sufficient. I just wanted to see the part of me that wasn't Mom." Silence. He couldn't think of anything to say. For once in his life, Gregory House was speechless. "And I really do have symptoms that I'd like you to take a look at," she tried. "You're right, I do think you're very intelligent. Your credentials are impressive. That's the way it is with genius." More silence. The girl just confirmed his worst fears, and now she expected him to help her? "I'm sorry," she said finally, sounding regretful. "I am a stupid woman for thinking I could handle this. Forget I ever came. You don't have a daughter. I don't exist. Everything is just…just fine…" She looked ridiculous, smiling and sobbing at the same time. This was what denial was: saying everything was fine and wearing your happy face when tears were streaming out of your eyes like they needed to escape. _

"_If you were my daughter, you wouldn't be crying like this," House informed her coldly. "Any offspring of mine would be stronger than that. They would understand that you don't need anyone else. You only need to function, and everything is okay. Emotions are useless."_

"_If that's so true," she spat at him angrily, swiping at her cheeks, "then why do you look so surprised? Why aren't you doing your job like you're supposed to?" She paused, then continued in a strange voice. "Why did you leave Alma?"_

_That was the question that sent him running. Down the hall, searching for a hiding place. Wilson, his comrade through good times and bad. He'd take care of this…this…_thing _that had just gotten the farthest into his heart anyone had ever gotten. He'd never have to see her again._

House recalled his own words. "Emotions are useless. You only need to function."

They still rang true for him. It was official: the child wasn't his. (Should he refer to her as a child? She was almost a lady. She could have been one if she hadn't been so dirty in that fight. She sounded just like him…)

Still, it wouldn't hurt to run a test or two. Just to make sure.

He smiled. Thank God there was science on his side.

* * *

Julia sat on the examination table. She must have been crazy to think this would turn out okay. It was a terrible idea, she could see that now.

The door opened. She held her breath. Was it House?

"Julia Peterson?" No, it wasn't. It was another doctor. He obviously didn't know what was going on. He wouldn't have been smiling if he had. "I'm Dr. Wilson. Dr. House asked me to see you. He's an extremely busy man."

"I can see that," she said, deciding not to say anything about their relationship. "It's good to see you, Dr. Wilson."

"What brings you to us today, Ms. Peterson?" he asked, prepared to take notes on her medical history. Hell, House hadn't bothered with that. Maybe he wasn't such a good doctor. Maybe this was God's way of telling her it was better if she just let him go…

Julia began coughing violently as she opened her mouth to answer. Dr. Wilson stood up and patted her on the back. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she said, embarrassed.

"I'm assuming that must be at least part of the problem," he said with a chuckle. "That's a very nasty cough you've got there. How long have you had it?"

"At least four weeks," Julia answered promptly. "Maybe more; I wasn't really keeping track until I noticed it wasn't going away."

"Understandable," Wilson said, nodding. "Any other symptoms you'd like to share with me?"

"All kinds of things," Julia told him. "This is going to make me sound like the biggest spoiled brat."

"Why do you say that?" he asked good-naturedly.

"All the complaining, and none of it seems justifiable," she answered. "It's just getting to be a real drag, very inconvenient."

Wilson nodded again. "If these symptoms have been persistent and have been getting in the way of your everyday routine, we do need to know about it. You're doing the right thing."

Julia smiled gratefully. "Okay, here goes. Lately I've been so tired. Not just worn out – I mean, from the moment I wake up in the morning, I'm counting the hours until I can go back to sleep. I've lost weight in the past few months with no real effort on my part aside from…" She giggled. "Well, I make some very inventive promises to God, but I don't think that's it. Maybe 15 pounds so far. And it always seems like I have a fever. Like right now, as a matter of fact. I checked it before I came in. 99.6." She paused, allowing Wilson to finish writing. When he glanced up at her, she asked, "Shall I continue?"

"There's more?" he said in mock horror.

"Unfortunately," she replied, sending him a wry smile. "There are times when I'm not really doing anything that I notice it's getting so hard to breath. Like, I'll be doing the laundry and all of a sudden…" Julia trailed off, then continued. "Eating isn't even simple anymore. It just hurts to swallow, you know? That sounds like such a small thing to be worried about, but it's so painful." She paused again, licking her lips. "I also get a whole lot of these terrible headaches. I've never gotten a migraine or anything like that before; no one in my family has. And they just started so suddenly, and get so intense. Any one of these things could have been easily dismissed it wasn't for everything else, you know?"

"What you're telling me is very interesting, Ms. Peterson," Wilson observed, eyeing her like she was some sort of lab rat. It didn't bother her, necessarily, but she did notice. "I'm not sure what to tell you. You say these symptoms have been persistent and have lasted a very long time?"

"Yes," Julia confirmed. "No conditions or illnesses or whatever come to mind?"

"Several, actually," Wilson said, smiling. "The thing is, some of them don't include all the symptoms, and some have more that you haven't mentioned showing, and some are all possibilities. However, in order to get the right treatment, we need to know exactly what's ailing you."

"So…" Julia said nervously. "Does this mean we need to run a whole bunch of tests or something? You need my blood?"

Wilson smiled again, relieved. "Yes, if you don't mind. You don't like needles?"

The corners of Julia's mouth turned upward, forming just a hint of a smile. "I'm not crazy about them, but then, there are worse things that could happen to me than getting a shot." She held out her arm, index finger pointed and raised upward. "Take what you need. I've got plenty."

Wilson obediently cleaned the area and inserted the syringe. He collected the blood, withdrew the needle, and wiped the drop of blood coming from the point where he had stuck her clean. "You like band-aids with Dora the Explorer or Buzz Lightyear?"

Julia laughed, a pleasant sound after watching her face as she rattled off everything that worried her. "Buzz, if you don't mind."

Wilson put the band-aid on and held out his hand to shake hers. "We'll be in touch as soon as we –"

Julia, who had taken his hand, began to shake violently.

"Julia?" he said, alarmed. She fell to the ground, her eyes rolling back in her head. "Julia!" _Certainly she won't mind if I call her by her first name. _Wilson pushed her onto her side, knowing that if she threw up, this would keep her from choking on her own vomit. He grabbed the door handle and yanked the door open. "Someone get in here! I've got a seizure!"

* * *

Dr. Foreman was walking down the hall at that exact moment with nothing to do. He heard Wilson's frantic cry for help and turned in its direction. "Coming," he called. Foreman raced into the room. "Who's this?"

"Julia Peterson, age 19," Wilson told him, busy trying to push things out of the way that might knock into her head. "She came in complaining of some long-lasting symptoms. I drew some blood, was about to tell her good-bye, and then she started seizing."

Foreman put himself between her and the examination table, reaching out and arm to try to keep her in one place. "Strange," he commented, not knowing what to make of it.

Julia's shaking began to slow, and then it stopped. She let out a whimper and glanced at Wilson. "Oh, my God," she rasped. "Did I just have a seizure or something?"

"Yeah," Wilson told her helplessly.

"Dear God," she said, pushing herself up into a sitting position. She smiled sheepishly, looking very pained, both physically and emotionally. "How embarrassing."

"No problem," Foreman said, thinking she was very mellow about the whole thing. Still, he'd take mellow over hysterical any day, no doubt about it.

"I don't think we've met," she continued, trying to make light of the situation. "I'm sorry my first impression wasn't exactly the one I usually give to others. Julia Peterson."

"I'm Dr. Foreman," Foreman told her. _She's a strange one_, he told himself. _Obviously doesn't understand the severity of the situation._

"You mind if I sit in here for a few minutes?" she asked Wilson. "Just to catch my breath. I'm not sure I can drive home right now, after that whole episode."

"You're not going home for a while," Wilson informed her. "Foreman, go make sure there's a room in the ICU for her." Foreman nodded, then went to do as he was told.

"Why not?" Julia asked suspiciously. "You mean I have to stay here?"

"Combined with all your other symptoms, this could be very serious," Wilson said as he helped her to her feet. "I'm checking you into the hospital for a few days. We're going to figure out what's wrong with you."

"But…" Julia stammered. How do you protest against someone who actually has your best interests at heart?

"Julia," Wilson told her firmly, staring her straight in the eyes. _God, those eyes...theylook familiar. _"I swear to God, Julia, you will be healthy."

* * *

A/N: Wow, very authoritative for Wilson, yes? Don't worry, all of our favorite characters will find a way into this story and will all play a major part. Hopefully I can keep them true to the way they were created in the show. There will be a little bit of romance somewhere along the line…I'm very excited about that, and I hope it plays out well. Thanks for taking the time to read, and chapter three will be up in a day or two if you'd like me to continue. 


	3. Who Knows What To Do?

OMG, thank-you so much for all of the reviews!

Samanthaon: I actually wasn't even considering a Wilson/Julia romance when I came up with this idea, but after I finished that last chapter with the whole eyes thing and all, I started wondering if that might be a possibility. You never know with this odd mind of mine…

To all my other fabulous reviewers that shower me with compliments I know I don't deserve: What do you think? Wilson/Julia? Or…something else? Any suggestions would be appreciated!

* * *

Julia was quite comfortable in her accommodations in the ICU of the hospital. "I didn't exactly come here thinking I was going to stay a while," she told Wilson. "Maybe a nice afternoon outing, but not a vacation."

"You're not the only one," he laughed. "It looks like you're all set in here. Meals will be served to you in bed, so that's very nice, you've got cable t.v., and you've even got a private room."

"Sounds like fun," she replied. "Thank-you very much, Dr. Wilson. I really appreciate the fact that you're all looking out for me."

"Anytime," Wilson said. "Listen, I've gotta run, but we've got a whole array of doctors on your case that will be coming by. And then I'll be back later on, just to see how you're doing."

"Thanks so much," Julia said again, none of the meaning of the statement lost in her voice.

"No problem," Wilson said. "If you need anything, just holler. Literally. There will always be someone standing around out there for you if you need them."

Julia giggled. "What constitutes as a need? If I can't breath, obviously, but how far down the line can I get? What if I get lonely and just decide I want to play cards with someone?"

"That's the most important need of all," Wilson said, smiling. "Just let one of the nurses know. They'll be glad to get off their feet and hang out with you for a while. And like I said, I'll be by whenever I can, just to make sure things are going well. And," he continued, his eyes sparkling, "I love to play cards."

"Are you a gambling man, Dr. Wilson?" Julia asked him.

"Sometimes."

"Good. We're gonna play Blackjack, and I'm gonna kick your ass." She clamped her hand over her mouth. "Oh, my God, I'm sorry. I have this incurable potty mouth and no matter how hard I try, something always slips out."

While Julia thought this was something to be ashamed of, it took a lot off of Wilson's shoulders. He could cuss now! He didn't have to feel guarded! "It's alright. If that's your worst vise, you're an angel. Besides, you'll probably catch me saying something rude later on. You won't have problems kicking my ass at Blackjack."

"You'll probably murder me at poker, though," Julia admitted. "Look, I'd better let you go. You probably have important doctor things to do and I don't want to keep you from them."

"Unfortunately, that's true," Wilson said. "I'll see you in a few hours, okay, Ms. Peterson?"

"That's Julia to you, and don't you ever forget it!" she said sharply, a wide smile across her face.

"See you in a few hours…Julia."

That made her feel all gooey and warm inside. He called her Julia! Only…they weren't exactly on first-name basis, because he hadn't asked her to call him by his first name. Oh, well. There were probably rules against that in the doctor community. Whatever. He was still pretty cool. Lots of fun to talk with, obviously intelligent, kind of cute…

_Julia, he's old enough to be your father!_

Actually, no. _House_ was old enough to be her father.

House. She wondered if she'd cross paths with him again at some point.

* * *

"House!" Cuddy's shrill voice cut through the air, embedding itself directly where it was supposed to go: House's eardrums. "Come here!"

House sluggishly turned around and hobbled over to her. "You know, you're not my personal trainer. You don't have to send me running all over the place at the speed of light."

"I just wanted to give you back your Vicodin, but if you're not interested…" she said smugly, shaking the bottle of pills in front of him. "I'm impressed. You got through clinic duty. I'm gonna have to steal your medicine more often."

"Not gonna happen," he told her, shaking his head as he snatched the pills. "I'm having an alarm installed. Maybe a fingerprint system, heat monitors, the works."

"You have a new case," she said, not in the mood for games. She slammed a file into his chest. "Julia Peterson, age 19. Came in complaining of some minor symptoms that weren't going away, had a seizure just as Dr. Wilson was about to kiss her good-bye."

"He was going to kiss her?" House couldn't believe this. _My best friend is making moves on my daughter! He's old enough to be her father! _Actually, no. Almost, though. _A seizure! _

"It's an expression, kind of like, 'Kiss my ass,'" Cuddy told him. "Actually, he was shaking her hand, and she just started seizing."

"Is she alright?"

Cuddy cocked a perfectly plucked eyebrow. "She's got a monster headache, from what I understand, but she's fine. For now, anyway. She's in the ICU, room 116." She shrugged. "Who knows? Now that you're actually asking about how your patients are, maybe you'll want to go see them at some point during the course of your investigation. Here." Cuddy handed him the vial of blood Wilson had collected earlier. "Dr. Wilson had drawn some of her blood before the seizure took place. It should be enough to run a few tests for whatever you think is necessary."

"But…" House couldn't think of anything to say. _Cuddy, I can't work this case because the kid thinks she's my daughter, and I'm scared out of my mind that she could be right. Come on, let's make a deal. I'll do clinic duty all day tomorrow. I'll scrub your office clean with my tongue. I'll be nicer to Cameron. Hell, I'd marry her if you'd just excuse me from this…_

"No buts," she commanded. "Go, do your job. And because I'm so proud of you, I'm releasing you from clinic duty all week!"

"Couldn't I just have a lollipop?" House wanted to know. Cuddy turned her back on him and walked away. He felt the irresistible urge to kick someone, so he went and found Chase.

"You're lucky I'm in a good mood," Chase informed him after House kicked him.. "What's up?"

"We've got a new case, gang," House said, walking leisurely into the room. Nothing was wrong. Just another day. "Let's do this."

"Good morning, Dr. House," Cameron said brightly.

"Good morning, sunshine," he replied sarcastically. "Don't be so happy next time. Drink your coffee and pay attention. We have to do this one fast."

"Why?" Foreman wanted to know. "What's going on?"

"Julia Peterson, age 19, comes in complaining of…" He flipped through the file. "Exhaustion, persistent cough, severe headaches, weight loss, shortness of breath, and difficulty swallowing. She's about to leave and then has a seizure. This is what we call a medical enigma."

"Please, that's elementary," Chase said. "There must be several diseases that ring a bell in your mind."

"Who are you, Sherlock Holmes?" House asked. " 'Elementary, my dear House.' Naturally, several diseases come to mind, but the question is, which one?"

"Why don't we just give her all the meds we can round up and see what happens?" Foreman asked sarcastically. "It's worked before."

"I don't feel like taking on a law suit at the moment," House replied, irritated that his favorite method had been flung at him so ruthlessly. "Take some blood, run some tests, and report back to me with your findings."

"What, we're not even brainstorming? How do we know what we're looking for?" Cameron asked.

"Sometimes, my dear, it's better to keep an open mind. Looking for something specific might deadly."

His team left the room. House allowed himself to relax, sat back in his chair, and began to think.

_Keep an open mind._ To what? To the fact that he might very well have a daughter?

_Jesus, Greg, the daughter isn't half the problem. What about Alma?_

They had met junior year of high school. It was supposed to be just a fling, not a relationship. He thought she was pretty, she thought he was handsome, and they both didn't want to bear the social stigma of not having a significant other. Their status was right, their chemistry was right, they even looked good together. What they hadn't counted on was how quickly they fell in love. It was a wild ride, passionate and unpredictable. Greg relieved her of her virginity on their senior prom night.

God, by the time she found out about _it_, he was probably already on his way to college.

He wondered how she felt, after they had lost touch so quickly after that night. He only called occasionally, rarely saw her outside of school. Soon, he couldn't even remember little things like the color of her eyes or the how she'd laugh so hard at him whenever he tried to be sensitive and romantic. It just didn't matter anymore, and he didn't know why. Deep down inside, he felt like an egotistical jerk, but he blamed it on his youth and never looked back.

He never thought it would come back to bite him in the butt like this.

Clearly, he had to get this Julia Peterson well, before he had to deal with Alma.

House put his hand in his pocket and felt the vial of blood. He rolled it between his fingers and knew the time had come. He made his way to the lab, trying to be inconspicuous. The truth of the matter was, he looked about as furtive as an inexperienced bank robber. He quietly locked the door behind him, and, confident no one was watching, drew his own blood.

The paternity test was now underway.

* * *

I know my romance is a little off, and a lot cheesier than it should be. My apologies, ya'all! Also, I have kind of a dumb question…actually, two.

1) What is Wilson's first name?

2) Is he married? If so, what's his wife's name?

(These may or may not be pertinent to the rest of the story; this is just for me. :P)

And, as a third:

3) Should I have known this before I began writing? (All signs point to: YES!) Chapter Four will be up soon. Enjoy this!


	4. Introductions

Wow, that was an insane amount of reviews I got! Thanks for the info., praise and constructive criticism, you guys!

Mollisk: Thanks for the info., and I probably should have known all that stuff before. I started watching regularly a little bit before the season finale. And almost everybody uses the "beat someone with his cane" thing! But yes, that is very harsh, and we should all come up with a different way for House to threaten people. :P

Dyslexic Crayon, Linz005, irock708: Thank-you for the delightful encouragement; it made me feel all fuzzy and warm inside. (I love your pen-name, too, Dyslexic Crayon! Very creative.)

Jeevesandwooster: Relieved Thanks for the info. I know this is mean, but I'm glad the marriage is rocky. Makes it a lot easier in case I want to turn that into a romance…:P You never know what could happen! And I'm sorry, this is going to be so confusing, because in order for the entire story to make sense, you have to read it until the very end. You don't find out what she has, why she has it, whether she really IS House's daughter, what he's going to do about it, etc. until the last few chapters. Hopefully I can write good enough chapters to keep it interesting for you!

runs with sissors, Amber Chase: I think I've got the Wilson/Julia relationship thing figured out, and I think it will please everyone (to an extent, anyway). I don't want to give anything away, but I'm pretty sure it won't disappoint you. :P Thanks for the suggestions; I really appreciate it!

Man, I'm on fire today! Maybe not talent-wise, but I've been posting chapters like mad. Here's chapter four, and this one looks like it will be VERY boring. Basically all that's going to happen is Cameron and Chase meet Julia, and Foreman's going to reintroduce himself. The end is the most important part because it leads you into the next chapter and if you don't read it, you won't know what's going on! (Well, now that I read it, you might know what's going on, but if you want to tell me what's what, you should read the whole thing anyway. :P) Thanks for stopping by!

* * *

"Knock, knock," Cameron said cheerfully, standing outside Julia Peterson's room.

"Come on in," Julia told her brightly. "I welcome all visitors. You could be Jack the Ripper, or the Son of Sam, or Osama bin Laden, for all I care. Your company is welcome."

Cameron giggled as she came into the room. "I'm Dr. Cameron, and I just wanted to come by and meet you. I'm one of four doctors that will be working on your case."

"I'm Julia Peterson, but I'm guessing you knew that," Julia replied. "I'd shake your hand, but I don't know if this thing is catching or not."

_I like this kid_, Cameron thought. _She's got a great sense of humor. Very witty. She reminds me of…someone._ "Hey, I work in a hospital," she said nonchalantly. "I have to practically eat disinfectant anyway. One more little thing won't hurt."

That said, Julia acquiesced and shook Cameron's hand.

"I just like to put a name with a face, and get to know the person whom I'm treating," Allison Cameron continued. "Health care can seem very generalized, but I don't see it that way. I think it should be very personal and suited to the individual we're treating. I want you to know we're doing everything we can for you."

_Oh my God_, Julia thought. _She's like a freaking poster girl for the hospital or something. Very plastic, not much brain. Still, she's pretty sweet. If she can hold her own in a game of Spit, I don't care. _Aloud, she said, "Thanks. I really appreciate that. I want you to know I have total faith in this hospital and the doctors that will be treating me."

"I promise everything will work out fine," Cameron vowed. "We're going to find out exactly what's going on and how to best treat the condition."

"Thanks," Julia said again. She'd never said the word much, and figured God was making her make up for it. "Look, I'm feeling a little sleepy, but I really appreciate you're stopping in. I'm not much fun when I'm not conscious, but if you'd like to come by later…"

"That's fine, sweetheart," Cameron said. _Poor girl. She's so young and all alone in the hospital. I wonder where her parents are._ "I'll be back in a few hours, and I'm sure the others will be in to introduce themselves as well."

"Alright," Julia acknowledged. "See you around."

As soon as Cameron walked out the door, Julia grinned. _"Sweetheart." She thinks I'm a piece of fluff that's gonna get eaten alive if she doesn't take care of me. I feel sorry for her if she thinks I'm that pathetic. I've seen things that would give her nightmares when she closed those pretty little eyes. I hope Dr. House doesn't treat her too badly._

Oh, God. Her stomach dropped. _House_. Was he one of this team of doctors that would be working with her? She didn't know how she wanted it to be. She wasn't sure what she thought of him. Hell, she wasn't exactly positive she was ready to be let down by another person who was supposed to take care of her…

"Julia Peterson?"

She glanced up at the door and smiled immediately. A total and utter god stood in front of her. Blonde-haired, blue-eyed, tall and handsome. (The dark part wasn't exactly accurate; he was fair, all right, but she wasn't complaining.) And what a voice! She'd always liked men with accents. Australian. Very good.

"The one and only," she replied, hoping her voice, raspy from a month of continuous coughing, at least sounded more grown up, if not sexy. "Who might you be?"

"I'm Dr. Chase, and I'll be working on your case with a few other doctors. I just saw Cameron walk out of here, so I'm assuming you met her?"

"Yes, I did. Nice lady." Julia decided not to elaborate.

"She's very nice, and a good doctor," Chase agreed.

"I'm sure you're just as talented as she is," Julia told him. "You look like a good doctor." Inwardly, she was praising whatever higher power there was for giving her that seizure. _I wonder if he's going to need to examine me later on…_

"Oh, yeah," Chase said, laughing. "I'm the best."

"What an ego," Julia joked. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Chase."

"Back at you," he replied. _Julia Peterson. Very pleasant, very cute. Julia Chase? It could work. _"I'll be around a bit later. I understand Dr. Wilson drew some blood?"

"Yes," Julia confirmed. "It was for testing, I'm assuming, since it wasn't enough to be donated, and we're not sure my blood is exactly the best stuff right now anyway."

"Excellent. We should be able to tell you something within the next couple days, or at least rule out some conditions we think you have at this point," Chase told her.

"Sounds good." Julia coughed violently.

Chase winced as he listened. "That's a nasty cough you've got there," he commented.

"It is," she said. "But I've gotten used to it. I've had it a while, you know."

"Interesting," he said, frowning. "I can't honestly give you any predictions at this point, you understand. It's probably viral, but beyond that…" He trailed off.

"Hey, that's fine," Julia told him. "Do whatever you have to do, just don't yank my chain. I don't want to hear thousands of different things, then find out it's something completely different."

"Good luck," Chase scoffed. "That's the only way Dr. House works. He's a good doctor, but he likes to mess around a little bit before getting down to business."

Julia felt a wave of nausea crash over her. "Dr. House?"

"Yes, he's the physician leading the investigation." Robert Chase squinted at her. "Judging from the disgusted look on your face, I'd say you'd heard about his many misadventures."

"Oh, yeah," Julia said breathlessly, forcing a laugh. "I've heard a lot about him. As long as he figures it out sooner or later, I don't care. Just get me well, okay?"

"That's something we can do, Ms. Peterson. I'm confident of it." Chase glanced at his watch and sighed. "Look, I've really gotta run. Talk to you later?"

"Definitely," she said. Julia watched him leave and hoped he was beyond hearing when she let out a hysterical giggle. Holy crap, he was hot. If it wasn't the fact that she was 19 years old and no longer a stupid teenage girl, she might have flushed red during the conversation and acted like a child. Luckily, Julia was smarter than that. She _knew _it was _his _loss if he didn't like her. Well, maybe not, but if it made her more confident, she'd go ahead thinking it.

Julia decided it was time to take advantage of the cable television available to her. She didn't even the basic channels at home, because her family didn't own a t.v. Hell, they were lucky they could even afford a toaster, between her mother's inability to hold a steady job and her step-dad's insipid mentality that the woman should do everything from support the family to keep things clean…Well, she didn't have to worry about that. For now, anyway. She picked up the remote and aimed it at the screen…

"Julia Peterson?"

_Damn!_ She dropped the remote beside her on the bed and glanced at the door. "I know you," she said. "Dr…Foreman, is it?"

"That's me," he replied, smiling.

"Great to see you again, under…better circumstances, I guess," she said, glancing mournfully at the television.

"I just wanted to come by and tell you –"

"Let me guess: You and your fellow doctors are going to do the best job possible in diagnosing and treating me. You promise everything's going to run smoothly, and you should be able to tell me something within the next few days," Julia said.

"You must be psychic," Foreman guessed.

Julia grinned. "Your colleagues beat you to it, I'm afraid."

"Of course." Foreman glanced down the hall, and Julia got the distinct impression he felt very uncomfortable.

"Hey, I'm sorry," she said sincerely. "I can be a little rude sometimes. I don't mean to be, I just get ahead of myself sometimes. This place makes me nervous."

"Ditto," he said. "I know it sounds like we're all saying the same thing, but we mean it from the bottom of our hearts. I believe in being honest with my patients," he told her. "That seizure you had could mean something or nothing. It could potentially be very serious. I don't want to leave you with a false sense of security, but I won't leave you without hope either. If you want the full picture, I'm a bit more reliable that Cameron and Chase, and a bit gentler than House."

"That's what I like to hear," Julia told him, wishing he would just go run some tests or something so she could find an interesting soap opera to watch. "I can tell we're going to get along very well, Doctor Foreman."

"Very good," he said. "I've –"

"Got to run, but you'll be around to check on me later," she interrupted. "Oh, my God. I did it again, didn't I?"

Foreman laughed. "It's fine. It's a real eye-opener, too. We'll try to be more original. See you later."

_I think that's everyone,_ Julia said, counting the doctors in her mind. _Finally! _

She flipped on the t.v., settled on _The Young and the Restless_, and lost herself in the mindlessness of the media.

* * *

"House?"

"House?"

"Dr. House?"

"The one of you that called me by my proper title, step forward."

Cameron glanced at Chase and Foreman, then walked up to House.

"Oh. You. How may I help you, Cameron?"

Cursing him silently, she said, "Do you have the blood Dr. Wilson collected? We need to start testing it."

"Blood?" House repeated, stalling. _Damn, I took the blood! _"I must have dropped it somewhere."

She eyed him suspiciously. "What's going on? You never blame anything on yourself."

"What? I'm human, too. Can't I make mistakes? Or are you always going to hope I'm perfect so you don't have to worry about what you do?"

"Whatever. I don't have time for this. I'm gonna go get another sample."

"Hold on," House said. He couldn't believe he was doing this. "I'm going to get it. I lost it, therefore it's my responsibility."

"You're kidding," Cameron said. But he was already gone.

* * *

House climbed off the elevator, mentally doing the sign of the cross. He didn't want to see the kid again, wanted nothing to do with her, but he needed to warn her. He needed to make sure she wasn't going to slip up and say something stupid in front of the others. Especially Wilson, if he felt like coming by to check up on her, like he did with a lot of his more attractive female patients. That's all he needed, the entire hospital laughing at him. _Father House_. It was such an oxymoron, it was all he could do to keep from bursting out laughing.

He let himself into the room, not knocking, not saying her name, not introducing himself.

Julia, though appearing surprised, didn't say anything either, but flipped off the t.v. She stared at him as he grabbed a syringe.

House felt her eyes on him, and didn't know what to do. He felt trapped for the first time in his life. He wanted to make an impression, but he wasn't sure what kind. Careless? Menacing? Fatherly?

"What?" he asked, sounding slightly harsher than he intended.

"May I help you?" she asked.

"You don't have to do anything but sit back and do as I tell you. If you cooperate, maybe we can get you out of here faster. Then we never have to see each other again."

"That won't erase me from your mind," she told him reproachfully. "You can tell yourself it doesn't bother you all you want, but it does."

"What are you, psychic?" House wanted to know.

"That seems to be Dr. Foreman's opinion," she giggled. "By the way, I think I kind of hurt his feelings earlier. If you could apologize to him for me…"

"You're not my child if you feel like you have to say sorry to _anyone_," House said as he cleaned her finger. "I can see I have a lot to teach you about the ways of a House."

"Look, I don't have to be just like you," she spat at him angrily.

"You already are." They were silent as he drew her blood. "I'm running a paternity test now, you against me, to see if we really are related. Now, just what would you expect from me if I end up being your father?"

"A birthday card once a year," she said. "Don't put your name on the front of the envelope. It'll send Mom straight to the bottle again." House glanced at her. "That's right. It wasn't all your fault. It's mostly my step-dad's. You think you're bad? You have no idea."

"I guess I can handle that if you'll fund a nice room for me at the old folks' home when I retire," House conceded. "Maybe this fatherhood thing won't be so bad after all."

Julia grinned. "I'm happy to hear that."

This might have turned into a beautiful moment, were it not for the sudden sound of a man's voice. It was yelling outside of Julia's room, demanding something, unaccustomed to not getting its way.

"I want to know where she is!"

_Shit. _Julia's heart caught in her throat.

House saw her go pale. "What?" he asked. "Are you going to –"

"Don't let him in here," she whispered, gazing at him helplessly.

"Too late," House said apologetically. "He's heading this way."

* * *

Wow, that wasn't as fun as the other chapters, at least in my humble opinion. Next one will be better! In my defense, I'd like to say I'm exhausted from having lots of summer fun outside. :P I'd love to hear what you have to say if you've got any ideas! Thanks for reading!


	5. Recognition Hits Hard

As always, I must thank all of the fabulous people on http/ for their time in reading and evaluating this story! You don't know how much I appreciate it.

So here's Chapter Five, and as far as I know, there's nothing special I need to tell you about it, so here we goooooooo…

* * *

Chase, Cameron, and Foreman sat across the hall in the lounge twiddling their thumbs.

"He's been acting so strangely," Cameron commented. "This morning he does his clinic duty, then he asks Cuddy about his patient's current condition, and then he actually goes to see her, and not just to put the fear of God in her."

"I don't understand it," Chase said, shrugging. "The man's gone insane."

"Hey," Foreman told them, raising his hands. "I'm not saying it's not the weirdest thing that's happened in this hospital since the last full moon, but if House is changing for the better, why can't we just be happy for him?"

"True," Chase mused. "Happy for him, happier for us."

Cameron grinned. "This could be the start of something wonderful."

"A toast!" Foreman decided. "We need a toast. Does everybody have their coffee?"

"Aye, aye!" Cameron said, raising her mug.

"Me too," Chase agreed, not exactly feeling piratey today.

"Cream and sugar, anybody?" Foreman continued.

"No, sir!" Cameron told him.

"No thank-you," Chase said politely.

"To Dr. House! May he change for the better and never look back!"

"To Dr. House!"

They toasted, sipped their coffee, and laughed. They knew how weird they probably looked, but whatever, it was good times when they all felt like this: elated. House was turning into a normal person!

"I wonder what he'd do if he could see –" Chase began.

He was interrupted by the sudden piercing yell of a man's voice out in the ICU. "I want to know where she is!"

Cameron stood up and glanced out the window. "If it's not one lunatic, it's another," she sighed. "Come on, let's go." They filed out into the waiting room, ready to assist the receptionist if she needed it.

"She's my goddamn step-daughter, and I have every right to see her!" the man continued, sending a stack of papers flying into the air.

"We're sorry, sir, but we can't let you see her right now," the receptionist at the desk said, sounding extremely calm under the circumstances. "If you don't leave, I'm going to have to call security and have you removed from this hospital."

"Jesus," he said, glancing around him wildly. "I can't believe you people. You don't know what the –" He stopped, gazing in the direction of room 116. They saw the corner of his lips turn slowly upward. "Thanks," he said, his voice and face taking on a very sinister edge.

"Sir, I can't let you go in there," the receptionist told him.

"See if I care," he boomed, pushing the door open.

Foreman glanced at the receptionist. "Call security right now." They couldn't do anything, and wouldn't know what it was if they could.

* * *

The man stared at House, tilting his head in confusion. "Who the hell are you?"

"I'm her doctor. I have every right to be in here, unlike you, who obviously doesn't know the meaning of the phrase, 'Get lost,'" House told him.

"You're not the one I have a problem with, old man, now you get lost," he growled. Then the man set his sights on Julia. He stomped up to the bed, grabbed her by the arm, and shook her violently. "What the hell are you doing in the hospital?" he demanded.

"Look," Julia said, her voice trembling ever so slightly. It sent a pain stabbing into House's heart like a knife; that tremor in her voice wasn't sadness or remorse or even anger. It was fear. "I told you I was sick. I told you I needed help, and you wouldn't listen. I had to come here and get checked on because something is really wrong –"

The man slapped Julia, and she looked like she was expecting him to. That didn't make it hurt any less. "Look, goddamn it, we're on welfare. We can't afford to pay medical bills every time you decide you want to run away from home."

"You're so stupid," Julia spat at him, tears forming in her eyes. "That's why we have a little thing called Medicaid." She waved her card at him.

The man snatched at it. "You stole that from me!" he accused.

"Damn right I did, Len," Julia told him. "If you want someone you can beat up every time you get in a bad mood, you're gonna have to wait until I get out of this hospital. And if you touch my mother –"

"Marriage gives me the right to do anything I want to your mother," Len said, his eyes gleaming with a deadly pleasure in seeing her afraid for her mom. "Don't you ever forget it."

"Get out of here," Julia commanded, pointing at the door. Her voice was on the edge of hysteria, and it was killing House. _Why isn't he doing anything? _she wondered. _He hates me, I know it, but you'd think he'd end this torture…_ "I'm not your child. I'm not a child at all. I'm 19 years old and I've been taking care of myself a lot longer. Go back to your drinking and whoring and beating and every other –"

Len Peterson didn't slap her. He punched her, right in the eye. She fell backwards onto the bed and swiped at the place where his fist had connected with her. "Shut up," he said. "Shut up, shut up, shut up…"

_Like a brat on a playground refusing to listen to authority, _House thought. "If you don't get out of here right now, I'm gonna fucking kill you." What shocked him the most was that he meant it.

Len laughed, a frightening sound that struck fear into everyone's heart. The entire ICU had been watching ever since he had walked in. No one would do anything. No one _could _do anything. "You couldn't take me even on two legs," he boasted.

House knew he could. He was ready to kill him, despite having a bad leg. He could have had one hand tied behind his back, he could have been paralyzed from the waist down, he could only see out of one eye…House couldn't believe him, he really couldn't. That man had hit _his daughter_…

The thought unnerved him. _His daughter._ He was certainly done for now.

Call it fate, call it luck, call it whatever you like, but security arrived at that very moment and caught Len aiming his large, grotesque fist in House's direction. They caught him before it collided with House's nose and dragged him, kicking and screaming, out of the room.

As his cries of obscenity faded away, the entire ICU was silent. Staring at them, House and Julia, their faces unreadable.

House stood up and went to the door. "Get back to work," he growled, slamming the door shut. Before the lock clicked into place, he noticed his team and Cuddy watching him intently. _What would he do now?_

House looked at Julia. She was staring at a place on the floor, biting her lip, scarcely breathing. Christ, he'd never seen anything that affected him like that. Nothing in his life had prepared him for that. Sure, House had heard the horror stories, seen the aftermath of domestic violence. Never anything like this, though. Never seen it happen, never had it hit so close to home…

He cleared his throat. "Julia…" he began. What could he possibly say to her?

"I suppose I should be thanking you now," she said quietly, almost apologetically. He wondered why. It wasn't her fault her step-dad was a crazy psychopath. "So…thank-you. Thank-you for not making me go through that alone."

"Jesus, Julia," he said. "How could I have done any less?" Somewhere in the back of his mind, he thought of Alma. How had she been deceived by that pig? Or worse…how could she have known his nature and decided she loved him anyway?

"You were going to fight him for me," she said observantly, wondrously. "You were going to take him."

"Yes, I was."

Julia smiled sadly. "I think you could have done it," she told him, almost choking on her own lie.

"No, you don't." House watched her react to these words.

"I don't," she whispered, tears streaming out of her eyes. "But I know you would have tried so hard, and that's all that matters to me. And I'm so glad you didn't have to. I would have felt like…like shit…" She began weeping, swiping at her eyes violently.

_There's that denial thing again,_ House thought, sinking into a chair beside her bed. _She wants to pretend that her worst nightmare didn't just happen. She wants to pretend somewhere in the world she has a father who isn't an asshole._

_Good luck, kid. _

House, not realizing it until it happened, took her hand in his.

* * *

Wilson walked into the ICU, his shift done for the day, and stopped cold. The place was a mess, files and papers strewn everywhere on the floor and desk. Everyone was talking in hushed voices, and they all kept glancing towards room 116. _116_. Julia Peterson's room. He had been planning on stopping in to say goodnight to her before he went home to face "The Beast" as he had not-so-affectionately nicknamed his wife, Julie. Now, he wasn't sure if that was such a good idea. Wilson found some familiar faces, Cuddy and Cameron and Chase and Foreman. He walked up to them and, lowering his voice involuntarily, asked, "What's going on?"

"Damned if I know," Chase said, dropping to the floor, his face in his hands. He had a lot to think about what he had just seen.

Wilson questioned the other three with his eyes. "What happened in here?"

Cameron shuddered. "Something terrible." She looked at the closed door of room 116, remembering the look on House's face as he had shut the door. What was that expression? Did it have a name? He looked…protective. Of what? Of Julia Peterson? She couldn't believe it. House? What was going on?

"Some man came in here looking for Julia Peterson," Foreman explained, giving Wilson the concrete answer he had been looking for.

The sentence hit him in the stomach like a kick in the guts. "What do you mean?"

"He was crazy," Foreman told him. "He was carrying on, insane, mad as a hornet when no one would tell him what room she was in. He saw her, though, and went into her room anyway. And he started screaming at her and hitting her, and House…" He stopped. "House…was ready to kill him."

"Oh my God," Wilson said disbelievingly. "Is Julia okay? Is House okay?"

"Yeah, they're alright," Cuddy replied, patting his arm. She glanced at the team, and they read her eyes. Chase stood up and the three walked away silently. "Physically, they're both going to be fine. Julia took a slap in the face and she'll probably have a black eye later on, but he didn't even get a chance to touch House before security showed up."

"What's his relation to her?"

"Step-dad, I think," she said. Cuddy looked at the room. "I would go in there and offer her my apologies, but I think she just wants to be alone right now."

"Where's House?" Wilson asked.

Cuddy narrowed her eyes. "Wait a second…He never came out. He's in there with her." She squinted into the room and a surprised look crossed her face. "Sweet Jesus…" Cuddy turned back to Wilson. "He _does_ have a heart." Cuddy walked away slowly, stunned.

Wilson, alarmed by this statement, glanced into the room himself. He understood Cuddy's surprise immediately. _Why in the world was House cradling Julia in his arms?_

"Dear God," he mouthed. "He has a heart. House has a heart."

It was, admittedly, almost ridiculous and would have been comical under different circumstances. Dr. House, a stoic of epic proportions, appeared to be comforting Julia Peterson, a girl who had just gone through what probably seemed like hell to her. He had one arm draped over her shoulders, and in his right hand was her left hand. What shocked Wilson the most were House's eyes. They held something in them…sadness. _That _was something you didn't see everyday. Not in House, anyway.

Suddenly, Wilson's mind played a trick on him, and for a moment he went back in time, to this morning in room 213. After the seizure, helping Julia to her feet, promising her she'd be healthy…He had looked her dead in the eyes and thought they looked very familiar…

"Dear God," he said again. "I know where I've seen them before."

* * *

I realize that this is one of those kinds of scenes where you have an opportunity to make it one of two things:

1) Very moving and emotional; it can seem very realistic and be very good to read

2) Extremely cheesy and unintentionally hilarious, thus making it very _bad _to read and very unrealistic

Let me know which one of these two things this is! If I am going to attempt another scene like this in the future (not necessarily in this story – haven't they already been through quite enough?), I would like to know where I stand. Reviews would be greatly appreciated, as always! Thanks for stopping by!


	6. And They Call It Puppy Love

I am so spoiled; I keep getting all these terrific reviews! I am distraught that I don't have enough time online to reply personally (silly parents...), but I'm taking all your feedback to mind and very much appreciate that you're sticking with me! Here's chapter six, a little more lighthearted than the last. Enjoy!

* * *

Wilson sat in House's office, hands clasped like he was about to pray, jiggling his leg, biting his lip. He knew he had no right to be there, no right be waiting for him, no right to interrogate him. But Wilson had to know. Curiosity was eating him alive.

The door clicked open, and an exhausted-looking House entered the room. His eyes had been closed, but he felt the presence of someone else in the room, and wanted to know who it was. "Ah, James, Jimmy, Dr. Wilson, old pal," he said, using every name he could possibly think of for the man to show he was good and pissed off. "You're always here for me, even when I don't want you to be."

"Are you okay?" Wilson asked, ignoring the not-to-subtle hint to get the hell out of his office.

"I'm fine," House told him, teeth clenched. "Right as rain. It's not me you should be concerned about."

"How is Julia?"

"Physically, not too well. Mentally…not much better." House sighed, sinking into a chair. "It's not just the black eye and the slap on the face, though. There's just something off about her. Her mind is sharp and works remarkably well, considering, but…I don't know. Clearly, she's not well. I know something's very wrong, but I can't put my finger on it…" He pointed into the air, illustrating his description. A frustrated look came over his face. "But she'll be fine. You shouldn't be too worried about Julia, either. No, worry for that asshole step-father of hers. One way or another, he's gonna pay."

"House, what if he gets out of prison on bail?"

"He can't afford bail." He drew in a deep breath. "They're on welfare."

"What if he isn't convicted? What if she doesn't press charges, for whatever reason?"

"He will be. And she's not stupid enough to let him get away with it."

"19 years of it, House," Wilson narrated gently. "You'd be amazed at what people learn to deal with."

"What if he escapes jail?" House mimicked. "What if he hires someone to kill me? What if the boogeyman really exists? There's no use asking questions. We'll know soon enough, and there are more pressing matters to be concerned about than a man who is safely behind bars for the night. Like her health, for instance."

"I heard you lost the blood sample I collected for testing," Wilson mentioned.

House tensed. "Yes, I did. I'm a middle-aged man. These things come naturally to me."

"House," Wilson probed. "You didn't really lose it, did you?" Nothing but silence. In the dim lamplight, he saw House's jaw begin to work. "Maybe you took it to run a test of your own."

"Your speculation leaves much to be desired," House told him, but his voice had suddenly boosted upward an octave.

"Your games are up, House," Wilson said. "I saw it in the lab. You versus her. You wanted to know if you were related."

"Yes, I did," he admitted gruffly. "Why shouldn't I? She comes in here, claiming I'm her father. She's got my eyes, my tongue, and now apparently my DNA. I'm assuming if you were nosy enough to look for the test, you were nosy enough to look at the results."

Wilson nodded. "I'm sorry."

House shrugged. "What's done is done. For once, I am much too tired to deal with you, Wilson. Get back to me tomorrow and I'm sure I can come up with some biting, caustic remark to cause you shame."

"How does it make you feel?"

"I don't feel things, James," House reminded him. "You should know that by now."

He could have brought up what he'd seen. He could have brought up any number of things, from the look in his eyes, to how tenderly he had held her hand while she sobbed. But Wilson knew he had probably run out of luck. Better not to push it, not now. "Well, that's probably a blessing," he said simply. "You've been through a lot today."

House shook his head. "Not me. Julia's been through a lot. Do me a favor."

"Anything you like."

"Don't tell the others. I'm not sure I want them to know, and they'll probably pick up on it at some point anyway. They're not as dumb as they look."

Wilson smiled. "Alright." He glanced at his watch. "I should probably get home. It's past 9:00 already, and the Beast is waiting."

"Bye."

"See you."

House sat silently, contemplating as Wilson walked to the door. "Hey, Jimmy," he said suddenly.

Wilson twisted around, confused at this sudden change from formality to familiarity. "Yeah?"

"Be honest with me," House requested. "Julia…is she pretty, do you think?"

Wilson gulped. _Oh, God. He's her father. He might kill me if I say the wrong thing._

"Hello? Earth to James Wilson," House said, waving at him. "Do you think Julia's pretty?" Sensing his hesitance, House smiled. "In case you were afraid, I'm not the type of dad who's going to chase after you with a BB gun for having hormones. I'm a hip dad, I'm cool, I'm groovy."

"I think the word the kids are using these days is 'sweet,'" Wilson informed him, relieved.

"Yeah, I'm sweet," House decided. "But really, Wilson, did I do good work? I mean, she's…attractive, I guess, right?"

"She's very attractive," Wilson told him honestly. "She's a pretty girl, intelligent, very funny. She's great."

"Yeah, she's a good kid," House said, sounding almost fond of her. "I could have done worse."

"Much worse," Wilson agreed. "Good night."

"Good luck with the Beast." As James walked away, he added under his breath, "You'll need it after she finds out you're thinking about cheating on her again with my 19-year-old daughter." He grinned at the absurdity of the statement. When pigs could fly would Wilson end up with Julia.

* * *

Julia sat in her room, the door shut, listening to the beep of her heart monitor. Staring at the blips on the screen was the only thing keeping her from bursting out crying again. She felt so stupid, so foolish. Of course she had known her step-dad would come looking for her. She just hadn't given a damn. Now look where it had landed her. Christ, everybody at the hospital stared at her like she was a leper or something! The nurses didn't say anything when they came to check her vitals or change her bed sheets; they only eyed her suspiciously, trying not to appear obvious. None of her doctors had come in to see how she was doing, but she had seen them before, out of the corner of her eye. Their horror-struck faces and frozen bodies told her enough; they wouldn't be back for a while. And she wasn't counting on seeing that Dr. Wilson again. He was lots of fun, that one, but at least he hadn't seen the whole thing play out. The only person who had been there was, ironically enough, Dr. House, the one person she was more afraid of than Len Peterson, the step-dad from hell.

She wondered what had made House so…different. Julia supposed it was possible that he had a heart. Just because you seem stoic doesn't mean there aren't thousands of emotions running through your bloodstream. But the way he had been after he had seen her lousy excuse for a father…it was amazing. She'd never seen such an amazing turn-around in a person, probably never would again if they didn't diagnose her soon.

Julia tipped her head back on her pillow. Christ, it was hot in there. _My fever must be breaking_. She ran her hand over her forehead, and the beads of sweat on her hairline were soaked into her skin. Julia decided some cold water would make her feel better. She eyeballed the distance to the bathroom; surely she could make it that 15 feet to the sink.

"Julia?"

She froze. "Yes?" she said slowly, her mind going on red-alert. Was this who she thought it was?

"It's me, Dr. Wilson," he called through the door. "May I come in?"

"Go ahead," she told him, sitting back in her bed. That water would have to wait.

He pushed the door open and smiled. "You look a bit tired," he commented.

"Yeah," she admitted. "I take it you heard about my little adventure this afternoon." _Best to get the awkward stuff out of the way. Hopefully he doesn't make me cry._

Wilson was surprised. Julia had gotten straight to the point, no questions, no nothing. It was strange to see a woman that wouldn't beat around the bush and try to sound you out – she was certainly one in a million. "I did," he told her. "How are you doing?"

"Better than I was before," she answered. "I guess I knew it would happen at some point. But the worst is over. The only family member I've got left that might try to get in here to see me is my mom, and she's not a violent drunk like my step-dad."

_Jesus_, Wilson thought. _Maybe she's a little _too _frank_. He began to sweat, wondering what he could say to that.

"But whatever, that's over and done with," Julia continued, her bright voice not matching the fake, cheerful smile on her face. "How has your day been, Dr. Wilson? Anything interesting happen to you?"

"Just you," he answered truthfully. Wilson mentally slapped himself. _That was a stupid thing to say._

Julia smiled. "I'm flattered, but certainly that's not the kind of interesting you were hoping for."

"Hospitals get boring. The same things happen everyday, you work with the same stuffy people all the time, and they only come in one color," he said.

"True," Julia said. "That's true. I don't know how you all do it."

"Day by day, hoping we win the lottery so we never have to come back."

Julia laughed. "That's hilarious! You're a funny guy, Dr. Wilson."

"Why, thank-you," he said, truly touched. He usually didn't get a chance to make jokes, and when he did, they weren't very good. Wilson didn't get a whole lot of practice because House was always the one making all the cracks. "They keep offering me a show on Comedy Central but I can't find the time to meet with the producers."

"Don't push it," Julia warned him smartly. "I think you're at your best when you don't know how cute you are." _Oh, no. Tell me I didn't just call him cute to his face. _She smiled sheepishly, feeling humiliated. "Jesus, I'm sorry. I don't know what it is with me and my stupid, grotesque, over-grown mouth. Let's just blame on the fever, shall we, and move on to other topics?"

"Hey, I'm not complaining," Wilson said easily. "My wife doesn't even call me cute anymore."

"Then she's pretty stupid," Julia said. "But then…I must ask, do you ever tell her you think she's cute?"

"Not much," Wilson admitted. "I nicknamed her 'The Beast' recently. I don't call her it to her face," he said quickly, noting Julia's horrified expression, "but that's what I refer to her as to all my friends. Like, whenever I'm saying good-bye to House or whatever, I'll say, 'The Beast is waiting, I've gotta get going.'"

"Do you really think of her that way?" Julia wanted to know.

"I don't know," Wilson mused, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "I guess the nickname came first, then she seemed to fit the persona more as I started referring to her with it."

Julia stared at him attentively. "Why did you nickname her that in the first place?"

"At the time, I was just being selfish, I suppose," Wilson said. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was amused that he was discussing matters of the heart with a kid barely out of school, but he chose to keep going. The expression on her face and her questions kept him pondering his situation, a thing he had never truly given much thought to. "A little while after the novelty of the marriage wore off, I guess I turned into a self-obsessed little bastard and didn't really care what she wanted. It was all about me." Wilson didn't feel like elaborating. That's all he needed, Julia thinking he was a jerk after Julie already did.

"That's probably true, to an extent," Julia commented, and her honesty was a strange but welcome veer from the norm. "It takes two, you know, and you're not less than human, as far as most men go. Don't beat yourself up for not being more."

"Well, tell me something," Wilson said. "I've been married three times. After that many failed attempts at…whatever, when you do start blaming yourself?"

"And why are you asking me?" Julia asked kindly. "I'm no expert."

"And you're talking to the Love Doctor?" he joked.

Julia laughed. "Obviously not. But you shouldn't blame yourself. Blame it on God and try to be better. That's what I do, for all kinds of things." She yawned suddenly. "It's getting a bit late for a philosophical discussion. Sometime tomorrow I'll write you a little pamphlet and we can have our therapy session after you get off."

"I think you're the Love Doctor here," Wilson told her. "I like what you've got to say. You're very intellectual, you know, Julia."

"Please, I'm lucky I got through high school," she said, smiling. "Go home. Go kiss your Beast on the cheek and ask her how her day went. Who knows? Maybe she's not as bad as you think."

"I'll try that," Wilson said. He told himself he was only doing it to make her happy. "Goodnight, Julia."

"See you later, Dr. Wilson."

He walked to the door, then paused. "You know what? I'm not technically your doctor. I think maybe you could start calling me James if you wanted to."

_Holy shit_, thought Julia. _"James." He sounds like a pilgrim. But a very cute, very funny pilgrim. I hope I can manage to say it without stammering._

"See you later…James."

* * *

You like? Maybe not romance yet…but something like it? Tell me if I've got you in the dark, which is right where you should be:P That's so mean. Anyway, I realize now that I'm not doing a whole lot with her condition, so I'll get on that right away. But I've said it before and I'll say it again: Don't be silent! Let me know what you're thinking! Naturally, I'd love some more reviews, so let me know if I should keep doing what I'm doing, change something, or just stop where I am and kick this story to the curb. Hopefully you're enjoying it! I aim to please, after all. Thanks for reading!

PS. The next chapter is going to be sooooooooooo freaking stupid. I've got this weird idea in my mind, and I think some of you will love it and some of you will never come back here again. But it amused me, so what the hell, I'll try it out and see what you think. So if you like idiocy...you'll enjoy the next chapter. :P That's all I'm gonna say.


	7. Pride and Presents Come Before A Fall

Mollisk: Here's this idiocy chapter, I hope you enjoy it if you were looking forward to it. No worries about the Julia/James romance, I've got you covered. I promise things will turn out alright.  
Nikelodean: You never know what I might decide to do to poor Julia...:P I'm so glad you're enjoying this so far; I'm having a great time with it! Too great a time, as I'm sure you'll agree after you read this. It was a long shot, but I tried it anyway...  
Jeevesandwooster: Thanks for the suggestion! I can't think of the most obvious things. Of COURSE Julia needs to ask him for information about House...after she figures out HE knows. I'm not sure how I'm going to get that to play out, but soon we should be getting some answers...Erg, this is so complicated! Thanks for reading, the compliments and helpful hints are making this so much more pleasant for me!  
The Lilac Elf of Lothlorien: Muahahaha, Chase/Julia is a possibility. You never know...there's still time, people, get in your votes now!  
Irock708: This chapter is supposed to be mostly hysterical. I thought it was when I read it over, but some people might not agree. Let me know what you think!  
Amber Chase: Glad you enjoyed it, here's Chapter Seven for you! Chapter Eight's coming soon...maybe not tomorrow, even though I've been updating everyday...sometimes twice a day. What can I say, summer's boring. But definitely in a couple days, at the most. Thanks for hanging in there with me!  
Samanthaon: Wilson/Julia is still in the running for most desired romance in my story! I personally like the best myself, but it doesn't score as many points for realism and workability. We shall see, my friend, we shall see. Thanks for reading!  
Sincerely Juicy: Aggghhhh, this chapter is so dumb! At least the beginning is, the end might be significant. Like I've said SO many times, I let my imagination and random sense of humor run away with me...real life experience here, it made me laugh, so I thought I'd work it into the story somehow. Kind of a tribute to a friend. Anyways, I hope this doesn't scare you away from reading!

So as you all probably guessed, this chapter starts off hilariously (or maybe not, in your opinion, I don't know), but the end is kind of important. Anywho, enjoy this; it's meant to make you laugh. This is a real-life experience, and I enjoyed it, so I thought you might too. FEEDBACK ON THIS CHAPTER WOULD BE APPRECIATED TIMES A MILLION! As usual. :P Thanks for stopping by!

* * *

"Cameron, I can't believe I let you talk me into this," Chase grumbled, swiping angrily at his hair, worn in two pigtails.

"Stop it," she scolded, putting the finish touches on his make-up. "You look good. Better than my little sister did after I got her ready for prom. Foreman, get out here! I want to make sure that dress fits you."

Foreman's muffled voice came floated through her bathroom door. "I'm not coming out. I feel so stupid. I never should have agreed to this."

"We all agreed we needed to cheer Julia up after this afternoon," she reminded them pointedly. "This is the best way to do it: shock her with a couple cross-dressing babes like yourselves and some goodies."

"How come you didn't dress up?" Chase demanded, tugging at the pink ruffles on his tutu. They itched like hell…

"I'm the straight man," she told him.

"I'm a straight man, and I dressed up," Chase muttered.

"Foreman!" Cameron yelled. She turned back to Chase. "If I dressed up, it would ruin the entire thing. Besides, someone needs to carry the bags. Now stop rubbing your eyelashes! You're going to smudge the mascara all over the place and make yourself look like a raccoon and then you'll feel _really_ stupid."

"Cameron, this is ridiculous," Foreman said, preparing to open the door. "I'm stuffed into this dress like a cannon shot me into it. It's never going to come off…"

"Foreman, if you rip that dress, I'll kill you," Cameron warned him. "It's one of my favorites. Now let me see you."

"No."

"Foreman…"

"Okay. Jesus, you're acting like a Nazi."

Foreman opened the door and walked out like he was a cow being lead to the slaughterhouse. He stood in front of them, face down, eyes closed, waiting for it to end.

Cameron nodded in approval. "You look terrific. That green really makes your eyes pop, and that bow in your hair suits you."

"Oh, thanks," he said sarcastically. "That makes me feel so much better about going transvestite."

"Chase, look at me," Cameron demanded. "You look good, too. You should wear more purple."

"I refuse to take fashion advice from a woman who thinks it's acceptable to take her male co-workers hostage, dress them up like girls, and then take them back to work and parade them around to their clients until they're nothing but jokes."

"It's for a good cause, and you know it." Cameron stepped back and clapped her hands. "Come on; let's get in the car. Julia's going to love this."

"She'd better," Foreman said gruffly.

"Cameron, you'd better not complain the next time I ask you to take the fall in front of House for my diagnoses," Chase told her.

* * *

Julia lurched forward, vomiting into the little plastic tub the nurse held in front of her. Ten minutes after Wilson had left, a sudden wave of nausea had come over her, and she'd barely gotten the aid of RN Kim McLaren before she'd started throwing up. "Thanks," she gasped, leaning back after she was confident she was empty. "Could I have some water?"

"Sure, honey," Kim said, going to the bathroom. Julia heard the sink running, and moments later Kim reappeared with a plastic pink cup in her hands. "Feeling a little better?"

"In a strange way, yeah," she laughed as her trembling hands took the cup. "I hate throwing up."

"I hate you throwing up too," Kim said, smiling. She took a paper towel and dabbed it lightly over Julia's mouth. "You want me to sit with you a while?"

Julia wanted someone to be with her 100 of the time. She hated this place and didn't want to be alone. "No, I'm fine," she said. "I should get some sleep."

"Alright," Kim said. "One of us will be out there if you need…us…" She trailed off. "Mary, Mother of God…"

"What?" Julia said as she turned her head in the direction Julia was staring. "Jesus H. Christ…" Dr. Cameron and two men in dresses were walking towards her room. "Is that Dr. Cameron?"

"And it looks like she brought Drs. Foreman and Chase with her too," Kim observed dryly. "Imagine that."

"Hey, Julia," Allison said brightly as she walked into the room, a brown grocery bag in her arms. "We hope you don't mind us stopping in. We thought you might like to see Chase and Foreman in their natural state."

It was painfully obvious that Chase and Foreman had never worn dresses in their lives, even before they sent murderous glances Dr. Cameron's way.

Julia burst out laughing. "Oh, my God," she squealed. "You guys are terrific!"

All three doctors smiled with relief. The cross-dressing was not in vain.

"I'm out of here," Kim told them. "You are all freaks, no offense." She walked out before any of them could say a word.

"We thought you might like some cheering up, being stuck in this hospital all day long," Chase said, pleased that he had provoked such a beautiful expression on Julia's face.

"Please," Cameron said. "Now he's gonna pretend like it was all his idea."

"No one wants to take credit for this," Foreman argued. "It's great we could make her laugh, but I have never felt so out of place in my life."

"Stop being such a baby, Foreman," Cameron said, digging through the bag. "You look great. This was an act of God."

"This was a disaster," Chase fumed, angry all over again.

"You put the ass _in _disaster, Chase," Cameron said.

"Hey, hey, hey," Julia said quickly. "You've all done a great thing, and no one gets extra points for coming up with the idea. And what's in the bag?" she asked hopefully.

"Presents!" they all chorused, grateful for the diversion.

"You're kidding!" Julia cried, clasping her hands together. "For me?"

"No joke," Chase said, as Foreman carried the bag over to her. "None of it's wrapped, but we hope you like it anyway."

"No worries, mate," she said, mimicking his accent. "Jesus, you have an incredible voice." _Oh, my God. There's that fever again. _"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm delirious because of my fever. You'll have to forgive me."

"No problem," he told her. Inside, he was smiling. _She likes my voice. Julia Chase. Sounding better all the time._ "Go on, start unpacking."

Julia reached into the bag and grabbed something. "Oooooh," she said, reading the label. "Bath and Body Works Moonlight Path Shower Gel."

"There's some lotion in there, too," Foreman said helpfully, pulling up a chair. Chase was sitting on the other chair on the opposite side; Cameron was on the bed next to her.

"We thought you might like some really awesome smelly stuff while you were here," Cameron told her. "I hate the soap they give you in this hospital because it makes you feel so unfeminine, so hopefully you'll like this better."

"Wow," Julia said, knowing that if there was more to be found in the bag, they had spent a small fortune. "This is great! Thank-you so much."

"Keep going," Chase suggested, flipping his pigtail around with his index finger.

"Here's that lotion," she said. "And a hairbrush, and a toothbrush, and some toothpaste. Then some shampoo, some conditioner, make-up…"

"All the essentials," Foreman said. "Boring. What else?"

"Holy cow!" she exclaimed, sounding like a child at Christmastime. "You got me a…" She knitted her eyebrows in confusion. "What _is _this?"

"It's a Solitaire game," Chase explained. "If you're sitting here, bored out of your mind, you can play some Solitaire while you're waiting for something interesting to happen.

"That's so cool!" Julia said, reaching into the bag for more. She pulled out a bag of Hershey's Miniatures, some Reeses Peanut Butter Cups, and some Kit-Kats. "Are you trying to fatten me up?" she asked. "Thanksgiving is a long way off. You've got plenty of time."

"Hospital food isn't so appetizing, so maybe you'd like to wash it down with some better dessert," Cameron said.

"This is so cool," Julia said, afraid she might start to cry.

"We're not done yet," Chase encouraged her. "Keep looking, there's more to be found."

"More?" Julia repeated. "I'm already so indebted to you guys. You have no idea how much this means to me." She smiled, water gathering in her eyes.

"Oh, no," Foreman said, grabbing a tissue. "Please don't cry. That's not what we wanted, really. We just wanted to scare you, with the dresses and all. We didn't mean it!"

Julia laughed, swiping at her eyes. "You guys are so cool. You're the most awesome doctors I've ever met. Do you do this for all your patients?"

"Only you," they said.

"Damn, I feel special," Julia said. "I'm gonna keep going, I guess. This is so fantastic, really. You have no idea…" She reached her hand into the back and pulled out what felt like the biggest book since _War and Peace_. "_The World's Biggest Book Of Crosswords and Word Searches."_

"We all thought your speech was very articulate and figured you might like this kind of stuff," Cameron said.

"Oh, my God," Julia said, flipping through the pages. "You're psychic. I used to sit around with all the old people in my apartment building and do this kind of thing all day. You have no idea how much I've missed this."

Cameron felt a lump in her throat. "There's more."

"Wow," Julia said again. She reached into the bag, as it was still heavy on her lap. "A plastic grocery bag?" she asked.

Cameron quickly put her hand on Julia's arm. "That's just some personal stuff," she told her. Understanding registered in everyone's eyes: undergarments and Always. "Anything else you can think of that you might possibly need during your stay at our lovely hospital?"

_Answers_, Julia thought. "God, no. You guys have thought of everything and more. This is truly fantastic." She glanced at Cameron, then Foreman, then Chase. At Chase, she cracked up. "Could we get a picture, please? I want to remember this forever."

"Foreman," Cameron ordered. "Get the camera."

"I have to be in the picture, though," he said.

"So get Kim to take it."

"Kim's long gone," he informed her, peering out the door. "Hey! Alice!"

"What?" A pause. "Foreman? Is that you? You look like a really ugly woman, or a very gay man. What do you want?"

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," he said, handing her the camera. "Please?"

"Whatever," Alice said, shrugging. "Alright, kids, pose for Alice."

They all leaned in and smiled.

"Say cheese."

"Cheese!" they all sang like kids at a birthday party.

Alice snapped the picture. "Be sure to make doubles for me," she said as she handed Foreman the camera back. "Later, ya'all."

"Bye!"

When Cameron yawned, Julia realized how late it was. "You guys should really be getting home."

"Not us, man," she said. "We're gonna stay here and party."

"One of you had better drive, or she might fall asleep at the wheel," Julia teased, looking at Chase and Foreman.

"Yes, ma'am," Chase said dutifully, saluting her.

"Thanks again," she said. "I love you guys so much for doing this for me. You don't know how much better this is going to be after this whole experience."

"Our pleasure," Foreman said, shaking her hand warmly. "We'll see you tomorrow."

"Behave yourself," Chase told her. "Between that shower gel and the Reeses cups, you're going to be as high as a kite. I don't want to hear any unruly reports when I come in in the morning."

"Live in fear," Julia told him jokingly, reaching up to take his hand. Instead he bent down and gave her a hug. _This is a very elating experience_, Julia thought. _I'm hugging an extremely hot Australian cross-dresser. _When he stood up, she cleared her throat, a bit unnerved, and said, "You know, I could be contagious. I wouldn't want you to get sick after all you've done for me."

"No worries, mate," he told her snootily, and they all laughed.

"Goodnight, Julia," Cameron said, giving her a hug too. "I'll see you tomorrow and see how things are going."

_Okay, okay, okay. Maybe Dr. Cameron's pretty cool after all._ "Thanks so much, Dr. Cameron. This is really incredible."

They all walked to the door…

Immediately one of the monitors hooked up to Julia started beeping wildly.

"What's up?" Chase asked sharply, all business, walking to the side of her bed. "Julia?"

"I…can't…breathe," she gasped, then her eyes fell shut and she went limp.

"Code!" They all gathered around, desperate to get her stabilized. They hadn't counted on Julia getting too sick to enjoy their gifts. Where was the fun, where was the _purpose_, if she wasn't going to live?

* * *

Julia began breathing regularly again, her vitals normal after a few minutes. The three doctors stood nervously around her.

"Where am I?" Julia asked suddenly, her voice sounding far away and dreamy. "Am I in the hospital?"

"Yes, sweetie," Cameron told her, confused. "You're in the hospital. Don't you remember what happened?"

"No," Julia said weakly. "I don't." She looked at the items strewn all over her bed. "What's all this stuff?"

"It's the gifts we all got for you," Chase said, not as bothered by the fact that she didn't seem grateful as by the fact that memory loss was a very disturbing symptom. "Do you remember?"

She paused for a second, considering the items, then said, "Yes."

They all breathed a sigh of relief.

"What's happening to me?" Julia asked, a tear slipping down her cheek. "Why couldn't I remember?"

"I don't know," Foreman told her, shaking his head.

"Does this mean I'm really sick?" Then slowly, terrifyingly : "Am I going to die?"

This was a question none of them could answer.

* * *

Weird, how things can start out nicely and turn so ugly? What will happen to Julia? Will House ever grow up and connect with the father inside him? How did Chase _really _feel about dressing up like a girl? Mleh, sorry, I felt so goofy today. Next chapter will be so much better, I promise, that was just me being odd...don't know how it happened. :P Lots of love!


	8. Dr House Faces The Music

Dafina: OMG, thanks SO much for the info. in regards to blood tests in the hospital! It keeps getting so irritating to have to keep making them go back just to get more blood, and Julia is running out of fingers:P Just because I'm lazy, I'm going to leave the paternity test the way it was, but I'm definitely going to take all of that into consideration in future chapters and stories. Thanks again, I really appreciate the help! (Lord knows, I can use all I can get…)

Okay, you guys, as Dafina very, very kindly pointed out to me, there have been some inconsistencies in my story vs. the real world in regards to blood testing. Sorry for the mistakes, ya'all! If I make anymore blunders like that, please tell me. (Thanks again, Dafina. ) For this chapter, I'm not sure what the protocol would be, because it's a doctor not necessarily working on the case (NOT Wilson) that only needs to run one test. I'm writing it with the assumption that they would draw from a vein just because…Anyways, I can't tell you how glad I am to have captured the attention of such informed, intelligent readers and held it long enough to be allowed to take their advice and constructive criticism to heart. Hope you enjoy chapter eight!

* * *

"House," Cameron said the next morning, knocking on his office door with more fire than she'd felt in a long time. Which was strange, in a way, considering she'd gotten about five hours of sleep last night.

"Jesus, Cameron," he said, opening the door for her and allowing her to come in. "This sounds like an emergency. Alright, you've talked me into it. Are you on the pill or should we try a plastic sandwich baggie?"

Her eyes widened. "You're disgusting," she told him angrily. "I'm not in the mood for this."

House held up his hands in defense. "You're the one who came to me. Just remember that."

"Julia's exhibiting new symptoms," she said, paying him no attention. "Last night we came in to say hello –"

"Yes, I heard," he said. "You're gonna make doubles of those pictures for me, right?" _Ammunition against Chase; this is excellent! _he thought smugly.

Cameron grinned in spite of herself. "Yes. But really, House, this is serious. Julia had literally just finished throwing up when we came in, and right as we were about to leave, she stopped breathing and we had to call a code. Then, once we'd gotten her back, she didn't know why she was in the hospital and what we were doing there."

House narrowed his eyes, thinking. "That's…interesting."

"Not the kind of interesting we were hoping for," she said exasperatedly. "I'm really worried about her, House. All of the tests are coming back negative, and she keeps getting worse. She's got a high fever this morning, that cough is getting worse, and she's lost 3 pounds since she got here. That was _yesterday_."

"Interesting," House repeated, pursing his lips. _What am I going to do?_ "Get Chase and Foreman in here. We need to brainstorm."

* * *

"Okay, girls," House said. Chase and Foreman shot him dirty looks. Cameron just smiled angelically. "Our symptoms are persistent coughing, weight loss, fatigue, memory loss, fever, seizure, pain in swallowing, headaches, shortness of breath, and an instance of coding. What do we think?"

Everyone shrugged.

"Come on," he pressed them. "You're all doctors. You should know this stuff."

Nothing.

"Okay, so am I forced to believe that I'm the only one that cares? This is a person's life we're dealing with. It's not a game."

"It's always been a game before," Chase murmured.

"Excuse me?"

Chase looked up at him, determination burning in his eyes. "House, what's different about this one? What's changed? Before, everything was a game. So what if these people get worse before they get better? So what if we have to watch their families in agony? You'll win, sooner or later. Now…"

"Dr. Chase, I'll thank you not to question my methods of work," House told him sharply. "I know what I'm doing."

"In House we trust," Foreman said.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just me taking a cheap shot," Foreman replied. "My apologies."

House turned around and stared at the dry erase board. "Something we haven't considered. There must be something."

"ELISA."

Everyone's head swiveled to the door. "Testing for AIDS. How original, Dr. Cuddy," House said. "No."

"No?" she repeated, stepping into the room. "Why not?"

"It's not possible," he told her. "Julia Peterson does not have AIDS."

"Just do it, House," she said. A demand in guise of a request. "If you don't, I will."

"She doesn't," he seethed, "have AIDS."

Cuddy stepped away from him. "Fine. I believe you. I'll never bring it up again." _Fat chance_, she thought, walking down the hall. _I'm doing this, with or without your help._

"House, you do have to admit it's a possibility," Cameron said gently.

"No, it's not," he said, more to himself than to her. "Her medical history would have listed any sexual activity she could have been participating in. She's young; it's not likely." _Not to mention the fact that my daughter would not be foolish enough to sleep around without the proper protection._

"What about drug use?" Cameron persisted. "Sharing needles with an infected person?"

"She's anything but a drug addict," he said, his voice somber. "I'm telling all of you: Julia doesn't have AIDS. That's final."

* * *

"Julia Peterson?" Cuddy said, stepping into room 116.

"That's me," she confirmed, sitting up in bed. She had been playing a game of Solitaire and loving every second of it. "How may I help you, Dr. Cuddy?"

"That's usually my line," she smiled, walking over to her. "I'm going to need more blood, I'm afraid."

"Jesus, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you all were a bunch of vampires," Julia laughed. She extended her arm. "Good luck."

Cuddy smiled sympathetically as she cleaned over the vein. "Julia," she began, not knowing how to delicately word the question, _Dr. House is convinced you're clean, but I'm not so sure. Is it okay if I test you for AIDS? _"I need your permission to run the test I'm going to be running with this blood. I would like to test it for HIV." Noticing the look on Julia's face, she quickly added, "Just to rule it out. I personally think it's highly unlikely that you have the disease, but just to be able to say we made sure."

"That's…fine," Julia stammered. _HIV? What am I now, a drug addict? Or a slut? _

"Anything you'd like to add to your medical history?" Cuddy continued, feeling braver. "Any recreational drug use or sexual activity that we might need to know about?"

"Nothing," Julia replied, un-recovered from the question about HIV. _Do they suspect that there's something I'm not telling them?...It doesn't matter, it couldn't possibly have anything to do with this. It was ages ago, and we've forgotten all about it…_

"Thank-you so much," Cuddy told her, walking to the door, her heels clicking on the ground merrily. "We should be able to tell you something within the next few days."

"Alright," Julia said, her patience for that phrase wearing thin. She just wanted to know what was wrong with her.

* * *

"You never said I couldn't talk to her about it," Wilson whined. He and House were breaking for lunch, arguing over sandwiches, salad, and sodas. "House, sooner or later, she has to know that I know. And everyone else has to know. And you have to get over the fact that I know, and that she knew before you did, and that everybody else knows…"

"Jesus, Wilson, you're giving me a headache," House complained, spearing a piece of lettuce with his fork. "Didn't your English teachers ever teach you about figurative language? You know, where you substitute one word for another so you don't sound like a broken record?"

"Stop changing the subject," Wilson demanded as he popped open a can of Sprite. "Look, I agreed not to say anything to the others. I won't tell Cuddy, because she'll take you off the case so fast you'll lose your lunch. But don't you think she needs someone to talk to about this? She just met her biological father, for God's sake. Don't you think she has questions about you, things she's too embarrassed to ask you?"

"Why should she be embarrassed?" House wanted to know. "I'm her dad. I'm sweet, right? I thought I was a sweet dad."

"The absolute sweetest," Wilson assured him. "But…I don't know…"

"You want her to feel indebted to you," House predicted. "Wilson, you know, before, I used to be able to stand by and watch you bulldoze over your wife and call it a mistake. But it ends here."

"Why?" he wanted to know.

"I don't think I can stand another crying jag."

Wilson considered this as he nibbled at his tuna-fish-on-white-bread sandwich. "Now you're being selfish."

"Look, Wilson," House said, his patience coming to an end. "Try to keep your hormones in check. I know it's hard for you, but just do it. For me." House stood and carried his trash with him to the garbage can. "See you later."

_Dr. House, _Wilson thought angrily, taking a swig of Sprite, _you don't own me, and you don't own Julia. Sooner or later you've got to realize it._

* * *

"I just would really like to see her," Alma Peterson said, her hands shaking. She was a thin woman, 5'1" with brown hair and sad gray eyes. Her Salvation Army second-hand clothing hung sadly from her body, and her hair drooped around the sides of her face as if trying to hide her. Her mouth formed a crescent moon, hanging downward in a frown. Once pretty, she was now tired and forgettable. No jewelry, no make-up, nothing to remember her by but the haunted look in her eyes. "Please?"

"Relationship?" the receptionist asked.

"I'm her mother," she replied softly.

"That's fine." The receptionist put her hand on Alma's, and it took her by surprise. "She's a good girl. We're doing everything we can for her."

"Thank-you," Alma said, adjusting her purse. "Which way to her room?"

"Right there, room 116," the receptionist told her, pointing.

Alma nodded, too worn out to express any gratitude. She had been up for the past two days straight, worrying first for her daughter, then for her husband. Julia did this a lot, run away from home. Frankly, she couldn't blame her. Len treated her so badly, and wouldn't listen when she told him she wasn't feeling well. The third fainting spell was it; Julia just knew she needed help. At the time, Alma had been blinded by the fist her husband had hanging over her eyes and agreed with him that it was just more complaining, but if Julia was in the ICU, certainly there must be something wrong. Then finding out what Len had done – Jesus, that was the last straw. She didn't want to see him again.

Of course, that was what she told herself every time he got arrested. It never rang true.

"Julia?" she said, rapping on the door.

Julia looked up from a book of crossword puzzles and smiled, her eyes confused. "Mom," she said. "Hello."

"I thought I should stop by and see you," Alma said softly, sitting down beside her. "Do they know what's wrong?"

"Nothing yet," Julia told her, and it was clear where they were similar. Julia possessed her father's eyes and wit, and her mother's flowing brown hair and soft, pretty voice. "They keep drawing blood and telling me they'll have a diagnosis soon. They talk but they say nothing!"

Alma let out a short laugh. "It'll be okay, sweetie," she said, brushing Julia's hair back from her face. "Have they been nice to you, other than that?"

"Very nice," Julia said. She wanted to make her mother smile, so she told her all about last night's fun. "I have these doctors that are all working my case simultaneously, one woman and two men. The woman's name is Dr. Cameron, and the men are Drs. Foreman and Chase. They came in last night and gave me a few gifts, just to let me know they were thinking of me. And probably to keep me from constantly bugging them to talk to me. And," she added with a sparkle in her eyes, "Cameron got them to dress up like girls! It was so hysterical, I was laughing so hard I was crying. I'll see if I can get a picture of it for you."

"Sounds fantastic," Alma said, smiling tiredly.

"Mom," Julia said, suddenly sounding stern. "You look too tired. You should go home and…" _If she goes home, she'll only drink more._ "You should get some sleep," she finished lamely. "There must be a couch or something where they let family members rest while they wait."

"I'm fine," Alma insisted. "I need to be here for you. God knows, I haven't been much in the past 19 years."

Julia felt a lump rising in her throat. "I'm not sure I want to talk about this right now…"

"I just want you to know that I'm sorry," Alma told her. "I know that 19 isn't exactly when you expected me to grow up and start taking care of you for a change, but better late than never, right?"

Julia nodded. "Right." She gave her mother a hug and bit her lip, determined not to cry.

Alma started sobbing the second they touched. Julia rolled her eyes, then grinned guiltily. "I'm so sorry, baby…"

"It's okay, Mom, it's okay," Julia cooed in her ear. _It never fails_, she thought sadly. _I always end up taking care of her, even when she promises things are going to change._

Julia suddenly felt her mother stiffen in her arms and she pulled away. "Mom?" she asked, then followed her gaze to the door.

"Greg?" Alma said.

"Oh, my God," House murmured. "Alma." Was that really her? She didn't look like herself, and yet…who else would be hugging his daughter and crying? He turned to walk away, feeling that he very strongly needed a drink, or at least a Vicodin.

"Dr. House," Julia called. "Please come back. I want you to meet my mother." Her voice sounded strange, almost humorous, like she thought the whole thing was a joke. "You're going to have to someday anyway, and you know it."

_The brat has a point_, he thought sullenly. House turned back around and walked into the room.

Alma glanced at Julia, wearing a look of question on her face. "You still call this man 'Dr. House?' Or do you not know who he is?"

"I know," Julia assured her, her eyes on House. "I know who he is."

* * *

This is going SO MUCH SLOWER than I thought it was going to. I felt for sure by chapter eight I might be wrapping things up. We're getting there, gang, slowly but surely, never fear! Anyways, thanks for the reviews of chapter seven. I was so pleasantly surprised; the responses added up to "strange but wonderful." I'm so glad you liked it! Anyways, as I read this chapter over, I realized that I had several more opportunities to screw up and not stay true to the reality of the way a hospital works. If you notice anything, let me know! I can go back and fix it if it's going to cause major problems in the future. Thanks for stopping by! (Pst! The review button is right down there to your left, if you'd like to say anything to me. :P) 


	9. Truce

Nikelodean: Thanks for the info. about the HIV test! I went back and edited chapter 8 ever so slightly, so if you really feel like reading it over again...just to keep the facts straight...Thanks!  
Amber Chase: Have a terrific time on your retreat! Stop by when you get back, I hope you enjoy the chapters waiting for you!  
Dafina: OMG, that was so nice of you to say! (The whole thing about it seeming like an episode of the show, I mean.) LOL, it might take up a whole season.  
Jeevesandwooster: Don't cry! I didn't mean it, I really didn't! Well, I meant the story, but not to make you cry! I promise it'll be okay...all questions will be answered within the next few days.

So here's chapter nine, enjoy! Chapter Ten might take a few days because I'm actually doing something tomorrow...baby-sitting. Bleh! Oh, well, money is money, I'm not complaining. Lots of love, you guys!

* * *

"Come on, Dr. House," Julia continued. "Sit down."

"Thanks so much for your hospitality," he said sarcastically, pulling up a chair.

"Why don't you call him what he should be called?" Alma asked impatiently. "Why don't you call him by his rightful name?"

"I call him by his title because I'm not comfortable with anything else yet," she said, catching his eyes. _Thank-you_, they said, and she read them without any trouble. "So, how long has it been since you've seen each other?"

"A long time," House said.

"Very long," Alma added. "Not since we graduated from high school." Her voice sounded bitter.

Julia nodded, then sat back in her bed. "Can you tell me anything yet?"

"Christ, Julia, it's only been two days," House informed her irritably. "Give us some time –"

"Time?" Alma repeated, her voice shrill. "You want to talk about time? I waited for weeks for you to call me back and you never did. I've been waiting since then for this to happen, and finally it has. I want something out of it."

"You don't always get what you want," House said.

"I'm not asking too much," she told him, starting to cry all over again. "I just want to know what happened. I thought we were having fun, Greg. I thought you loved me, or at least liked me enough not to put me through all the shit I experienced anyway."

"Do you always curse around your daughter?" he asked. "What an example you've set."

"I seem to remember an F-word slipping out the day I met you," Julia said. "That was before you even knew who I was."

Alma glared at him. He glared at Julia. "I didn't come in here to be verbally attacked by a bunch of crazy women," he told them coldly, standing up.

"And we didn't come here to be toyed with, damn it," Alma said sharply. "Greg, it's all too obvious we're over. I'll even understand if you don't want to have anything to do with your only daughter." She said the words much more hurtfully than she'd intended, and she knew they had cut into Julia's heart like a knife. "But come on. You're a goddamn doctor, and this is your job. Just get her well."

"You certainly know how to change your tune quickly," he commented dryly. "One minute, it's, 'Oh, Greg, don't leave me again.' The next you don't give a damn as long as I can tell you what you want to hear. Pick one, and then I'll see what I can do."

"Stop it," Julia said. "Jesus, you sound like a couple of kids. We all know this is a very awkward situation."

"One that you dragged us into," Alma said. "Julia, was this a coincidence?"

"Of course not, Mom," she replied exasperatedly. "It's the only thing you ever did for me when you were drunk. I could get anything I wanted out of you. Whether or not you loved Len, my real dad's name, could I have another cookie. I figured I'd kill two birds with one stone, and I succeeded."

"Jesus, you can be such a bitch sometimes," Alma said, looking down.

"She learned from the best," House shot at her.

"I won't let you go around talking to me that way in front of our daughter!"

"How noble of you," House seethed. "But isn't it a little contradictory to tell me not to yell at you in front of her when you went and got married to a goddamn psychopath that treats you, and her, a hundred times as badly as I ever could?"

"Stop! Fighting!" Julia shouted, saying each word as a separate sentence. She had learned the most effective way to earn silence was to imitate it between words. Her parents both stopped arguing and looked at her. "I said it the day I came in here, and I'll say again. I'm sorry, I was a stupid woman to try this."

"You're not a woman," Alma said accusingly. "You're a spoiled brat."

"She's more of a woman than you'll –"

"Dr. House," Julia interrupted, enunciating the words very clearly. He groaned in exasperation but fell silent. "Thank-you. Look, Mom. For the past 24 hours, I've found that I can get along with my biological father very easily by pretending he is just my doctor and nothing more." She glared at him, hoping he could receive telepathic messages. Certainly her mother didn't need to know the part about him cradling her until she'd stopped crying long enough to make his escape. "I suggest that you try that. And Dr. House, it would make this whole awkward experience much easier if you wouldn't bring up things from the past just to make yourself sound wittier and more intelligent. It hasn't worked yet, and it won't in the future. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal," he said, tapping his foot impatiently. "Can I go now? I'm going to check out some of your test results."

"That would be terrific," she said, smiling. "Go ahead."

House walked away, trying not to scream. Had his own daughter just ordered him around, and gotten her way!

"Mom?" Julia asked. "Is that okay with you?"

"Julia, I am so disappointed in you," Alma said, standing up. "I can't believe you were selfish enough to come here without thinking who else it would affect besides your own precious self." She walked to the door.

"Mom, please don't leave," Julia pleaded, her eyes filling up with tears. _If she goes home and starts drinking again, whose fault will it be but mine? If she passes out, who's going to be there to clean up her vomit and beer bottles? Who will call 911 if something goes wrong? _"I'm sorry, I should have thought about it."

"Too late," Alma whispered, walking into the lobby.

"Mom…Mommy…" Julia trailed off. "Jesus. I can't do this anymore. If she wants to swim in the alcohol till it's coming out of her eyes, that's fine, but I can't crawl into the bottle with her every time she decides to dump her problems on my conscience. I'm 19 years old, damn it, and she's 37! She should be taking care of me. Even when I'm in the hospital, even when we don't know how many more breaths I'm going to draw… 'Julia, it's all your fault, you're so selfish. What about _my_ needs?'" She shuddered violently, and reached for a tissue…

"Julia?"

She froze. _Oh, God. It's that voice. The hot Australian cross-dresser. _

Chase opened the door, a concerned look on his face. _Could she possibly be hallucinating now? There's no one in the room she could be talking to._ "Who are you talking to?"

She laughed, a high, hysterical laugh that wasn't so much of an expression of joy as a cry for help. "No one, just me," she said. "I'm monologuing. I do that sometimes, during…times of, ummm…stress," she finished lamely. _Shit. The hot Australian cross-dresser thinks I'm crazy._ "So, what brings you to my room, Dr. Chase? Need more blood? Checking my vitals? Or are you here to make sure I'm telling Dr. House absolutely every part of my medical history? I can assure you, your colleagues have been taking excellent care of those things all day."

"Can't a doctor just want to check up on his patients' general well-being?" Chase wanted to know, taking a seat beside her. "Like, perhaps wondering if she's comfortable, or if she's lonely, or if she wants to talk?"

Julia smiled. "That's more than fine, Dr. Chase."

"So," he said. "Are you comfortable?"

"Very much so," she answered truthfully.

"Lonely?"

"God, no," she said, sounding repulsed at the idea. "I have people constantly coming in and out of this room. It's like it's a freaking train station or something, the way there's a new face every second."

He laughed. "So I'm supposing you don't need to talk then, if there's a new face every second."

Julia considered this. "That's not necessarily true," she said, suddenly becoming shy. She blushed, looked down, and suddenly seemed to become very interested in the seam on bed sheet. "Don't get me wrong, everyone's been great. I couldn't have asked for more. It's just that…I don't know, no one here's really seemed to care about how I'm doing up here –" she tapped her temple "- as opposed to physically. I know they do, I mean, it's just that they're so busy…"

"We're not as busy as you think," Chase told her. "At least, I'm not. I'm here if you need to say anything."

"Better than talking to myself," Julia admitted. "And I feel very close to you, you know, Dr. Chase."

"Really?" he said, sounding astonished. "Why is that?"

"Well," she said, appearing to be trying to choose her words carefully. Then she glanced up at him, a mischievous grin on her face. "I'm assuming it's not every girl in the world you feel comfortable enough to wear a dress around."

Chase laughed heartily. "You're right, you know," he said. "I suppose that's true. Well, in that case, we must be very close, Ms. Peterson."

"If we're close, you've got to call me Julia," she said. "I don't get it. I'm still practically a kid. I mean, 19. I don't care about formalities. My mom named me this because she thought it was…a pretty name…" _No, she didn't. She named you Julia because right after she had you, she went right back to drinking. Then she got it in her head to name you after some cheerleading bitch from her high school that she had never liked anyway. She keeps telling you day after day how much she regrets giving you the name "Julia" because it brings back such bad memories and she never liked it anyway. _Julia stopped smiling.

"What's wrong?" Chase asked.

"Just thinking about my mom," she said. _Tell me my voice didn't just shake like that._

"Has she been here?" he asked. "I don't think I've seen her."

"She just left," Julia said miserably. "I don't know where she was before, I don't know where she's going now."

Chase shifted in his chair uneasily. He wasn't used to playing the kindhearted listening ear; he was more of a silent observer when he bothered listening to other people. "You sound a little…uneasy talking about her," he commented, hoping it wasn't rude.

"She's tough to deal with," Julia admitted. "Dr. Chase, I love my mom. A lot. But it's pretty pathetic when the child ends up taking care of the parent, don't you think?"

He swallowed. This too nearly echoed his own experience. "I do. Care to elaborate a bit, perhaps?"

She sighed. "My mom's an alcoholic, my step-dad's a murderous psychopath, and my real dad's…" _My doctor._ "Well, his parenting leaves much to be desired. Like, maybe he could actually be present more often, you know?" Julia glanced at Chase, carefully gauging his reaction.

Then, slowly, he spoke. "You know, that's very strange, how very nearly identical we really are."

* * *

After recognizing their similarities, Julia's story spilled out. Chase listened and understood, empathy suddenly coming naturally to him. She couldn't tell him the part about House – couldn't bring herself to out him to his entire team just yet – but everything else flowed easily between them. When they finished talking, Julia was very close – and understandably so – to tears. She was too exhausted from everything to let them go, thus saving her from what could have been very humiliating.

"That's a lot of baggage you've been carrying around," Chase told her gently, feeling very strongly like he should touch her, maybe hold her hand or pat her shoulder.

"Back at you," she said. "Wow. Now we know everything about each other, every dirty little secret, and we're no closer to letting it go, are we?"

"You can't let it go yet," Chase protested. "You still see this every day. You still have to watch your mother do this to herself. I wouldn't go through it again for anything."

"Is it very slow?" she asked softly. "Watching them drink themselves away?"

"It was for my mother," he said. "Don't be angry about it, whatever you do. You'll find it alienates you from the people you most need to be surrounded by."

She laughed suddenly. "Thank-you, voice of experience. But let me ask you this: Looking back, do you see anything you could have done to save her?"

"Yes," he said, sounding surprised that she would even ask such a thing. "For every drink she had, there were probably ten things I could have done. You ever feel guilty, like her life is your hands and you're not doing a good enough job taking care of her?"

"Every day."

"Logically, that's not true. You have to know that," Chase told her firmly. "But emotionally…"

"Nothing can tell you otherwise," she finished for him.

"Exactly." They fell silent, contemplating everything they had just shared.

"I hope she comes back soon," Julia said, suddenly sounding very young. "I hope she even remembers where I am when she wakes up in a drunken stupor. I hope she remembers I even exist."

"She loves you," Chase said. "You know that, don't you? Just like you love her. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

"Feels like it," Julia mumbled dejectedly.

"Getting gloomy on us again?" Chase asked her, deciding now was the time to change the subject. "Am I going to have to wear a dress the next time I come to see you? Please don't put me through it again, Julia, that damn tutu itched like hell…"

"See!" she cried triumphantly. "You men folk don't appreciate the effort we of the female variety make to look good."

"Point taken," he laughed. "I appreciate it, although I must admit I do think you'd look good no matter how much effort you put into it."

Julia's heart monitor started beeping, not lethally fast but high enough to cause alert. They both glanced at it, and Julia blushed wildly. _Please, God, just melt me into the floor and I'll never lust after him again,_ she prayed. _Please make the beeping go away. Safe place, safe place, safe place…_ Of course, it was all Chase's fault. If he wouldn't go around saying things like that, it never would have happened.

Chase grinned, and was infectious, eventually spreading to Julia's rose red face. "That was cute," he told her, walking to the door. "I'm going to give you some private time to see if you can get that under control." He closed the door slowly, not taking his eyes off of her as he did so.

"Unh," she groaned, falling back onto her pillows. "Tell me my heart didn't just go as fast as the speed of light and give Dr. Chase the humiliating but totally correct assumption that I'm half-in-love with him."

* * *

So that's chapter nine, and I think we might just be getting somewhere! I don't know if that part with the heart monitors was even possible or not, but whatever, I thought that was mildly amusing. Enjoy! Chapter ten is on it's way! Be afraid. Maybe I'll spare you more anguish over this story if you leave reviews. 


	10. Truth Breaks Free

Holy cow, you guys, your reviews rocked my socks! I am so glad I have a terrific audience like you to review my work. I really appreciate you're hanging in there with me throughout this project; it's been a lot of fun so far, promises to continue to be fun, and has only been made better by you all!  
Amber Chase: Haha, thank-you for the vote of confidence on the whole Julia/Chase or Julia/Wilson thing! Hopefully the romance thing works out well...not sure if I can right a satisfactory romance scene, seeing as I haven't had as much experience in that department as Chase and Wilson have. :P LOL, thanks for stopping by!  
Jeevesandwooster: I 3 you for not bashing Chase! He's an arrogant jerk sometimes, I'll give you that, but I kind of like him. :P He's very physically attractive, has a lovely voice, and I wouldn't mind one bit if he was my doctor. :P LOL, hopefully Alma will grow up soon. No worries, things will turn out okay!  
Runs with sissors: The ducklings are the most important part of the story, man! They provide the comic relief:P Thanks for reading!  
irock708: I've got you covered; the next few chapters are outlined and waiting for any tips from the readers that might be of help. I'll be updating! Thank-you for your time and comments!  
Iscariot: May I say "wow" to you as well? That was by far one of my favorite comments ever:P I so much appreciate everything you had to say, and thank-you for the compliments! I've worked very hard on the grammar and puncuation (haha about the possessive apostrophe thing!), and figured the dialogue and character development and whatnot were in the hands of God. :P He must exist after all! You have no idea how muchyour praise means to me; it is afantastic motivation to keep writing...and may I say, your vocabulary is impressive as well. :P Not to be a sycophant; I'm serious!  
Badr: Thanks for reading; I'm very glad you're enjoying it! You've been reviewing from the beginning and have had very positive things to say; I'm very grateful.  
Nikelodean: Haha, can you imagine Chase and House as father-and-son-in-law? That might be a bit of an awkward family reunion...:P  
Sweet A.K.: Haha, the heart monitor thing probably isn't possible, but that's okay! Glad it made you laugh!  
Eternalgorithm: Thanks for reading; glad you enjoyed!  
Mollisk: Julia and Chase are a match made in heaven, LOL! And this is only the beginning of the story, man, I've got miles to go! (Bet you're sorry now...) :P  
Sincerely Juicy: The heart monitor thing isn't possible, probably, but I'm glad it was entertaining anyway! And as for everybody else finding out...I've got you covered. Havea read of this chapter; I think you'll find what you're looking for.

* * *

"More coffee?" Foreman asked Cameron politely. 

"No thank-you," she said tiredly. She paused, flipped another page in her 3-pound book of medical conditions, and sighed. "We've exhausted all possible options. We must have screwed up a test or something, because I can't find anything else."

"Relax," Foreman said soothingly. "Cuddy came by and said she had the HIV test ready to go. It shouldn't be too long before –"

"It sounds like you want her to be sick," she spat out. "You don't have to sound so inconvenienced when all they want are answers. You know, these are real people who have to live with real illnesses."

"And they might have been really stupid," Foreman said. "Don't forget that one."

"I agree with House," she said. "It's not HIV."

"You're the one who told him he had to consider it!" he exploded. "I don't understand you! First one way, then another. You keep going back and changing your mind."

"Science is science, and ultimately, it doesn't matter what I say, now, does it?" Cameron demanded. "I don't want to fight with you, okay? I'm tired, you're tired, we're both stressed out because of this whole thing…"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Foreman muttered. "Truce."

Chase walked into the room – well, he actually more glided into the room with a grin on his face. "Hey, there, Foreman, Cameron," he said, pouring himself a mug of coffee. "How's it going?"

Cameron and Foreman exchanged a glance that said, _Since when is Chase the only one of us in a good mood?_

"Chase," Cameron said with forced cheerfulness. "You look so happy. What happened during your lunch break?"

"I found out that among Julia's most pressing problems is a humungous crush on yours truly," Chase told her with a grin. "It's so obvious."

"I think someone's fallen a little too much in love with himself," Foreman replied.

"No, but you can tell," he protested. "I mean, I'm okay with it. It doesn't bother me at all –"

"Because Chase has a crush on her too!" Cameron cried, clapping her hands. "This is perfect."

"Chase has a crush on who?" Wilson asked, barely able to drag himself through the door. _His _lunch break had been terrible.

"Julia," Foreman said, getting him up to speed. "You guys are so juvenile. This isn't high school; it's a hospital."

"I don't have a crush on her," Chase said quickly. "She has one on me. It's not my fault, you know."

If Wilson thought he had been having a bad day, he hadn't seen nothing yet. "Julia Peterson? Cute 19-year-old in room 116? Are we talking about the same person?" he stammered.

"Yeah, that's her," Chase said, dumping packet after packet of sugar into his coffee. "She's sweet, though. I kind of like her too. In a different way, I mean. Doctors aren't allowed to get into that kind of mess with their patients, and she's a little too young…"

"You're a little too old," Cameron told him. "She's so mature. I love that kid."

"Well," Chase said thoughtfully as he recalled their conversation, "I'll give you that. She's very insightful."

"You'd better not let her dad find out," Wilson warned him, sinking into a chair with a sigh.

"You mean her step-dad?" Foreman wanted to know. "I'd put my money on Chase. It's a tough call, though."

"No, I mean her real, honest-to-God, biological father," Wilson told him, enjoying the moment.

"We haven't seen him yet," Cameron said.

"That is strange, though," Chase added. "Now that you mention it, we haven't. I wonder what's keeping him…"

"Oh," Wilson said slowly, a smile spreading across his face. "I think you've seen him. You actually know him quite well, in fact."

"Well, don't keep us guessing," Foreman demanded. "Who is he?"

"Don't tell me you don't know."

"We really don't," Cameron pleaded. "Come on, tell us!"

"I'll give you five bucks if you can guess."

Chase opened his mouth to take a crack at it, but before he could get any words out, Cuddy stepped into the room. "There's a prize involved? For what?"

"Guessing Julia Peterson's real father," Wilson told her. "Five bucks to the first person who gets it."

"Oh, that's easy," she said, smiling. "Dr. House."

They all gasped, Wilson because he hadn't been expecting her to get it, and the others because they couldn't believe it. "You're kidding," Cameron breathed.

"How did you…how…" Wilson was dumbstruck, unable to finish his thoughts, let alone his sentence.

"It's perfectly obvious," Cuddy told them smugly, taking in the glory of having them awed at her. "Come on, haven't you looked her in the eyes since she's been here? Identical to Dr. House's! Then the way she talks! I suppose it might have taken a while to pick out the witticisms in her speech because she's not constantly waving it in front of your face like a red flag as Dr. House is prone to do, but that's obviously something that had to have been inherited. No 19-year-old girl talks that eloquently without a little bit of genetics on her side. Then there's the way Dr. House has been acting…"

"Jesus," Cameron said. "I thought…" _I thought he might have been in love with her for minute. Thank God I was wrong about that!_

"It makes perfect sense," Foreman said, then slapped himself in the knee. "I can't believe we didn't think of this before!"

Chase was speechless.

"Dr. Chase," Wilson said, finally able to gather everything exploding inside of his brain into a coherent sentence. "Maybe now you understand why you should probably not let her father find out. _He's a lunatic!_" He turned to Cuddy. "How did you know? It took me forever to figure it out."

"Please, Dr. Wilson, I found out the same way you did," she said, turning to leave. "Anybody can tell once you get a look at those eyes right next to each other. Listen, I'm gonna go check up on her blood tests, okay? We don't need to tell Dr. House about them in case one comes back positive. I trust you're all understanding what I'm telling you? Yes…" She nodded, encouraging them to nod with her. "Good. Bye, guys."

"At least she didn't ask for her five bucks," Chase said once he was sure she was out of earshot.

"Who cares!" Wilson asked, suddenly animated. "House is going to kill me when he finds out I told you! I just couldn't stand it anymore, you know? He's acting like he owns her, for God's sake!"

"What do you mean?" Cameron asked.

"He's like, 'No one understands her but me, Wilson. I know what's going on with her, I'm in control, and _damn_, did I do some amazing work!'" he mimicked. "Look, don't tell him I said anything. Tell him you guessed. He'll kill me, he really will."

"Why can't we just pretend like we don't know?" Foreman asked. "It can't be that hard."

"Please, it'll be impossible," Chase assessed. "Knowing something like this…a trained actor wouldn't be able to fake it."

"Come on, you guys," Foreman persisted. "We've been in tough spots with him before. Of course we can pretend we don't know. Just go on, business as usual, and it'll be fine."

"No," Cameron said. "Chase is right. He can smell lies, just like he smells fear, and B.O., and everything else. I don't know about you, but I'm just going to own up to it. I know! I know, I know, I know, I know, I know!"

"Know what?"

"Shit!" Cameron spun around wildly in her seat at the sound of his voice. "Absolutely nothing," she said, suddenly feeling like Molly Shannon between the hushed tone of her voice and the frighteningly painful maneuver she'd just completed. _Superstar!_

"That's what I thought," House said, walking past her.

Wilson, Cameron, Chase, and Foreman couldn't take their eyes off of him. He made it to the coffee machine before he felt their gaze. "What, did I cut myself shaving? Strange…I haven't touched my razor in about three days." He poured himself a cup of coffee, then glanced up at them. They were still watching. He remembered the restraining order he'd mentioned to Julia yesterday and considered trying one out. "I knew Cameron was enamored with me, but I had never mistaken you guys for queers. Well, maybe Foreman and Chase after the dress thing, but not you, Wilson." He stirred some milk into his coffee, his thoughts in a frenzy. _Do they know? Did Wilson tell? That little weasel! _He looked up. They were still watching him! "What? What's going on?"

Cameron stood up and walked over to him. "Dr. House," she said, then took a deep breath. _Now what are you going to say, smart one_? she asked herself, mentally kicking herself. "I…ummm…need to tell you something."

"Shoot," he said, sipping his coffee, actually relieved she was breaking the silence.

"Umm…" she said. "Well, you see…" Cameron spied the coffee pot, half-full, just sitting there on the counter. Light from the window caught the side and grinned stupidly at her. _We'll just see about that_…She mumbled some more "umm, here's the things" as she pretended to prepare to fix herself another cup.

Wilson saw what she was doing. _Is she crazy? She can't fake that, not to mention the fact she's going to burn herself into oblivion!_

"I told them!" he blurted out, just as Cameron "dropped" the coffee pot and spilled the simmering liquid all over herself.

"Shit!" House and Cameron screamed in unison.

"Oh my God, that's _hot_!" she said, tears of pain stinging her eyes.

"What did you think, genius?" House asked her as he maneuvered her towards a seat. "Nice going. You got it all over your…" He didn't want to say it, he really didn't. But then it wasn't his fault she had gotten it all over her chest, was it? "Bosom," he finished.

"I can see that," she gasped, swiping at her chest with a napkin. "I can feel it, too! Jesus, it's so _hot_."

"Are you going to sue McDonald's?" he wanted to know. "They didn't make the coffee; they just always seem to take the blame for people's clumsiness." Confident Cameron could handle things from here, he turned to Wilson. "Now," he said, "am I correct in thinking that I just heard you say that you told them?"

"Yes," Wilson said.

"And am I correct in thinking also that you mean to say you told them about that thing I specifically told you not to tell them about?"

"Yes," he moaned.

"And am I correct in thinking, Dr. Wilson, that I told you in no uncertain terms that you were _not supposed to tell them_?"

"What do you want from me? I confessed! I told you the truth!" Wilson, a brilliant idea suddenly occurring to him, pointed at Chase. "It was all his fault! I was protecting her, House. From Dr. Chase, who seems to like her!"

"You expect me to worry about Chase?" House asked, cracking up.

Wilson nodded slowly. "Yes. I was under the impression that you really didn't like him that much."

"Hey!" Chase said, though it was no surprise. And it made him feel better to think that he really didn't like House that much either.

"That much is true, but I've grown to respect Dr. Chase," House said in a booming voice as he came up behind Chase. Putting an arm around his shoulder a la friendship, he continued. "I can only hope he has done the same. Not to mention the fact that Dr. Chase seems to know that I'd beat him within an inch of his life if he came near my daughter. Which is a fact that you, I might add, haven't seemed to grasp yet."

Wilson held up his hands as if to defend himself from House's words. "Julia and I are friends," he said. "That's all. No funny business."

"That's how it always starts," House told him. "That's what you say every time. Well, let me tell you something: you're not adding Julia Peterson to your list of 'Women I Have Cheated With While My Wife Sits At Home Wondering Where I Am.' Not that I don't have every confidence that she would tell you the exact same thing should you propose such a heinous idea."

"Way to go, Dr. House," Foreman muttered under his breath.

Cameron finished mopping herself up. "Dr. House, I've got to ask…what are you going to do? After she gets out of the hospital, I mean?"

"I fail to understand why I owe you an explanation, but I see no harm in telling you," House said, sitting down. "Things are going to go back to the way they were. Julia will leave, bewildered but healthy, and will return home with her mother and pig of a step-dad. I will continue to work here with all of you, tolerating your blunders with the coffee pot, Dr. Chase's crush on my daughter, Dr. Foreman's surprising willingness to wear a dress, and Dr. Wilson's violation of my trust. And I will never look back."

They had no doubt of what he said, which is why they all turned their attention to drinking their coffee and searching for another medical condition that could explain Julia's worsening symptoms.

* * *

Dr. Cuddy sat in her office, her hands shaking. She had read the test results three – no, _four_ times, and she didn't believe it.

She sipped her water anxiously and read them once more. Definitely correct. There was no denying the results. The black ink screamed at her from the page. _You've all been defeated!_

Dr. Cuddy didn't know why she was so disappointed by this. Of course it was sad – it _always_ was…but she didn't know how Julia would take it. How _House_ would take it. Jesus, how was she ever going to tell him?

"Dr. House, your patient, Julia Peterson, has contracted HIV…"

"House, I did ELISA on Julia's blood, and she's positive for HIV…"

"Greg, I'm sorry. Your daughter is going to die of AIDS."

Now, when was the last time she had called him Greg? Had she ever? She couldn't remember. Not that it even mattered!

Cuddy put her head in her hands. She didn't know why, but she was feeling more helpless than she had in a long time.

She spent the entire night trying to get her heart to stop aching. For herself, for House, and for Julia.


	11. Dr Wilson Takes A Chance

Badr, Nikelodean, runs with sissors, The Lilac Elf of Lothlorien: Don't be sad, people! This story WILL have a happy ending! A realistic one, but a happy one. It will make lots of you ecstatic, in fact. Hang in there with me! Sorry to have made you sad, though. I listed it as Drama/Angst; it just took longer to get to the angst part. :P Thanks for the reviews, though!  
irock708: Sorry about the sadness...and this chapter should give some clues as to how the romance thing's going to play out.  
jeevesandwooster: Gross...Harry Potter...:P Sorry, I never got into that trend. Let's see...her step-dad IS responsible for the whole thing, in a way, but he didn't actually do it. Also, you say you don't cuss; sorry about my potty mouth! I need to develop a wider vocabulary so I can sound intelligent when I need to vent, or the characters need to vent, or whatever. In the meantime, though...it can be fun, I must admit. :P Thanks for reading!  
Sincerely Juicy: Here you go, you're not last this time! You'll be first next chapter, LOL! Thanks for the review, I'm glad you enjoyed it, even though it's sad. :(  
JacobedRose: Thanks for the review! My apologies for the sad stuff; I hated writing it and it was harder than I thought it would be. Next time I write a House fic, no one dies! Glad you enjoyed the scene in the lounge, though, that was fun to write.  
Regina Halliwell: "Powerful." Wow, that felt good to hear, thanks so much. I appreciate the time you take to red and review.  
Mollisk: LOL, the sequel's going to come after I finish with this story. It's not over yet by a long shot! Thanks for reading, glad you enjoyed it.  
Jazzhands: Thanks for the vote of confidence, and for remembering there is more to this story than sadness and pain! We've still got romance left; I'm not sure, but I THINK I can write it so everyone will be happy. Thanks for reading!  
Thermy: Thanks for reading! As for the AIDS symptoms thing, I did some research on it, and I used the onesthat suggest full-blown AIDS. However, I admit that my focus in this story veered somewhat from the medical mystery to the emotions and interactions of the characters, so it doesn't sound as serious as it is. Something to remember if and when I write another House fic! In regards to the heart rate thing...I don't know, if it was me instead of Julia, I might have had a heart attack, just because I'm half in love with Chase. Some people hate him; I can't. I appreciate the review!  
Here's Chapter Eleven, and it's pretty heavy stuff. Very depressing. No ducklings featured in this part, so it's not going to be as funny as the lounge (Ch 10) or the cross-dressing episode (Ch 7). But it is quite necessary, or I wouldn't write it. Hang in there; it WILL get better!

* * *

Wilson pulled into his driveway, halting the car when he reached the garage. He switched the ignition off, undid his safety belt, and reclined his seat. He figured if he was going to go all night in the car, he might as well be comfortable. Why was Dr. Wilson spending the night in his car instead of in his bed where he belonged? He figured he should probably save Julie the trouble of throwing him out, which was what she would most certainly do once she discovered what he had done. What he _would_ have done, if it hadn't been for that damn wedding band… 

Sure, he had considered just not telling her, but he was too rattled from the whole experience to play it cool. She'd worm it out of him sooner or later, and then all hell would break loose. And he would end up right where he was anyway. Wilson decided being the bigger person and taking the inevitable punishment like a man was the best policy.

Wilson rolled to his right, gazing at the empty passenger seat as though it was filled. He didn't see his wife there; he saw Julia. The worst part was that he didn't understand why! Considering what had just happened, he thought it was a miracle her lifeless body wasn't in the trunk leaking blood onto his meticulously kept carpet. _Okay_, he admitted to himself,_ that would have been overkill._ Still, he thought anger was a perfectly reasonable response under the circumstances. He thought back to approximately one half-hour ago…

* * *

He opened the door to room 116, slightly more nervous than he had been in a long time. He fumbled with his collar with sweaty palms, feeling suffocated. He forced himself to smile. "Hey, Julia," he said. 

"Do people ever call you Jimmy?" she asked in lieu of a greeting. "I mean, James is a great name and all, but kind of…"

"Colonial?" he suggested.

Julia laughed. "Yeah.

"Dr. House calls me Jimmy sometimes," Wilson said, pulling a chair to her bedside. He watched her smile wane under the effect of his name. "What is it about him that makes you look so sad?" he asked, already knowing the answer. If Dr. House had been his father, he wouldn't look sad. He'd probably eat a bullet before he gave himself the chance.

"He's just not what I expected," she said simply, barely opening her mouth.

_That's a clever answer_, he thought. _A truthful answer, yet a lie. _"So it seems Dr. Chase has a bit of a thing for you," he said, changing the subject. Bitterness crept into his voice.

If Julia noticed, she showed no signs of it. "Really?" she asked him, sounding pleased at the concept.

"He thinks you're something else," Wilson told her, choosing not to report on the Aussie's more flippant statements. _"She's a little too young,"_ he thought angrily. _You're a little too late, you whiny bastard. By the time you guess what you're missing out on, I'll know for a fact and be able to flaunt it in your face in full, excruciating detail. _"What's that face mean?" he asked playfully, referring to the goofy smile and dreamy look in her eyes.

"What face?" she teased.

"Come on," he prodded. "I know a crush when I see one."

Julia's cheeks reddened. "It's no big deal," she insisted. "He's just been very good to me, that's all."

"I should hope that's all," Wilson said, his voice taking on a protective edge. "Your dad would kill him."

"Step-dad," she corrected him. "And Chase might be able to take him, especially if the asshole's good and trashed."

"I mean your real dad," he said gently. "Julia…I know. About you and House."

She didn't speak for a second. "You make it sound like we're having some sort of affair," she protested, trying to make light of it after the shock numbed a bit, but her blue eyes seemed lost in a haze of hopeless thoughts and emotions. "My mom told me his name once, I figured I'd kill two birds with one stone, and I came to meet him, my symptoms in tow. If I had known what he was like, I wouldn't have done it."

"Hey," he said. "House seems tough, but he's a good guy. And he likes you a lot more than he likes the rest of us."

"You're kidding," she said.

"No way. He thinks a lot of you."

"Wow…" Julia let it sink it. Her dad thought she was _okay_! "He seems so cold sometimes. I mean, he's been great, but he kind of avoids the subject."

"He's afraid having a daughter will change his life," Wilson confided.

"Jesus Christ!" Julia exclaimed. "I just want to talk to him _once_! There are things he needs to answer for, things I want and need to know. And I have things I'd like to tell him. But I'd rather not even go there and just push him right back out of my life if he won't play along for me, his only daughter."

Wilson nodded, trying to imagine the hell Julia was going through. She probably wanted to know about his leg, why he was such a cynic, if anyone had replaced her mom. He hoped she'd push the issue with House, demand an explanation. It might not be the heart-to-heart she imagined, but it would be good for them both. "Before you leave, ask him to dinner," he suggested. "Hang out, talk a little, end it on a note you both can live with. He's not ideal father material, but it's a start."

"That's a good idea," she conceded, smiling weakly. "Thanks, James. You're a good friend."

"I'm no Dr. Chase," he laughed, producing a strangely hollow sound.

"It's not a competition," Julia chided. "Look, you've been here for me since the second I cam in here, and you're great to bother with me even though I'm not your responsibility. You're very selfless, James; you've given me support that's been immeasurable."

"Not as much as I've gotten from you," he protested, laying a hand on hers. He noticed her gaze shift and transform, but it didn't seem to be anything to read too deep into. He continued. "Julia, you're a fantastic young woman, and I've grown to like you. A lot, in fact. I knew you had too, but I guess not as much as Dr. Chase." He smiled sadly.

"I told you already; it's not a competition," she insisted. "I like you a lot, too, but…"

Wilson shushed her. "That's all I need to hear," he said. His heart clutched her words tightly, giving him renewed faith to place in what he was about to do.

James Wilson, already on Wife #4 in his mind, placed his hand on Julia's cheek, shut his eyes, and kissed her gently on the mouth. It was all he had thought it would be, slow and sweet, his fear of her now elating as he felt himself conquer it. Things were going to be perfect now, he was sure of it…

It took Wilson 3.9 seconds to realize Julia wasn't responding the way she was supposed to be.

He pulled away, studying her quizzically, his left hand still on her right one. She was shaking, and if the expression on her face were a color, it would have been Scared Shitless Dead Man Blue, because her breathing was the only thing distinguishing her from the bodies in the morgue. She wasn't moving, or talking, all color had drained from her face…

Well, hell, he wasn't _that_ out of practice, was he?

"What's wrong?" he asked, as if he truly didn't know.

"'What's wrong?'" she repeated. "'What's wrong?' Everything is wrong! Have you lost your mind!"

He blinked. "Huh?" This wasn't at all what he'd been going for. He had been thinking lots of heavy breathing and roaming hands, maybe some breathy promises of things yet to come once Julia was released…

"James, I don't get it," she confessed, shaking her head. "Is this all you've been getting at all along, with the friendliness and the jokes and visiting me after you get off? You just want to get laid by some kid?"

"Julia, you don't understand," he began.

"No, _you_ don't understand!" she shouted. Julia grabbed his wrist and held it up so he could see his hand. "Look at that! It's a wedding ring! It means you made a promise to one particular woman that you'd never do anything like this! It means you made a promise to every other woman in the world, including me, that we'd never have to be responsible for saving or breaking up a marriage. I thought maybe you understood that, but I guess not, huh?"

"My marriage isn't your business," he fumed. "I know what I'm doing."

"No, you really don't," Julia told him. "You've been married three times, and I haven't even fallen into the trap once! I think I know what I'm talking about. If you were the man you've been pretending to be around me, you'd try to grow up and not do this to 'the Beast,' as you call her. You'd try not to do this to _me_. You don't know how hard it is, James…"

"Well, you don't know Julie," he countered. "You would cheat, too. It was bound to happen. She expected it…"

"Look, I'm not a poster child for purity or anything, but I think those vows you made on your wedding day are sacred. I can't control what you do, but I can control what I do. I'm just protecting myself, Wilson. And trying to protect you and Julie, too."

"It was just one kiss!" Wilson exploded. "It was an experiment to see how you felt!"

"In your mind it wasn't just a kiss," she hissed. "And in the future, kindly do not refer to your mistresses as 'an experiment.' That's degradation at its finest."

"It was a mistake! Is that what you want to hear? It was all a mistake. _You_ were a mistake!" Wilson realized too late what he had said.

Julia didn't respond right away, and he was horrified at himself as he watched pain fill those beautiful blue eyes that used to put him in a trance for almost the entire day. "Yeah, I admit it. I was a mistake, in more ways than one. But if all I've accomplished is making you glad you're going home to your wife instead of me, then so be it. Try not to screw things up with her, and maybe you'll get lucky after all."

She was right, he had to admit. A night with Julie would feel like heaven compared to this misery. "Fine," he said, walking to the door. "I'm gone. Chase is on his own; I can't deal with this anymore. Have a nice life, you…" He really didn't want to say it, but he'd started out having the last word and intended to finish that way… "Bitch." He slammed the door…

And ran straight into House.

"I seem to recall my requesting that you not spoil my daughter's reputation by…ummm…coming near her," House said.

"What can I say? She's fucking irresistible."

* * *

He had walked away, thankful House couldn't catch him if he tried. He scrambled into his car and sped away, not looking back. 

And here was Wilson, wanting the only woman he most certainly could not have, having just admitted the one he should have wanted was nothing to him, and deserving to sleep next to a toad. Every man's worst nightmare.

"Fuck you," he whispered, not sure who he was talking to. Then he caught his reflection in the side mirror and knew: himself. "Fuck you, Wilson," he whispered again.

* * *

House stared at Wilson's retreating back. He couldn't be sure, but he was almost positive that his best had just:

A) been sarcastic with him

B) walked away from him

and C) come out of his daughter's private hospital room where window blinds and a bed were present.

He'd never known Wilson to try these things on a twin bed for safety reasons, but House figured he'd better make sure…

He pushed the door open, terrified that he might find Julia getting dressed after some wild hospital bed sex, but what he saw made him want to bolt.

She was crying. Again.

Julia looked up, recognition dawned, and she erupted in a fresh wave of tears. "Great," she sobbed. "This is all I needed to make my day complete. Did you know that God hates me? Well, he does, and he's making me _miserable_! I just want to _die_!"

"Look…kiddo," he said awkwardly. "We can throw the book at him, charge him with sexual harassment and all that jazz. But I have to know…" House drew a deep breath, then blurted out, "What did he touch?"

"Nothing," she said, then hiccupped.

"Excuse me? Do I hear denial?"

"He didn't touch anything."

"Okay…" House said slowly. "Well, lewd comments might not hold as much water in court, so…"

"There were no lewd comments! That's the problem!" she cried.

House blinked. "I'm not sure I'm following. You say the fact that Wilson hasn't touched you or made any lewd comments _is_ the problem?"

Julia nodded fervently. "I guess I can't blame him. He had just finished telling me how he was trying to be more faithful to his wife, that he felt so bad for cheating on her, and that he had to stop hanging around me so much, then I turn into fucking Potipher's wife in a nightie and try to seduce him. He ran out of here like Bambi after his mom got snuffed." She blew her nose. "House, I've fallen madly in love with him. I'm not sure how, but I have, and I don't know how I'll continue without him…"

"Are we talking about the same Dr. Wilson?" House was stunned. Something was terribly…right? "This is an answer to prayer! I never thought I'd be so glad to find out my daughter is a whore…and an unsuccessful one, at that."

"Oh, shut up," she muttered irritably. "It was just one kiss, considerably light on the tongue, given that he tastes better than a hot fudge sundae…"

"That was more than I needed to know," House interrupted, suddenly feeling ill. "Look promise Papa that Daddy's little girl won't try to ravish anymore of his co-workers tonight, okay?"

"I promise."

"Good. See you in the morning, Pumpkin." He grinned. "Am I getting the hang of this dad stuff or what?"

"You sure score high on the embarrassment meter," Julia replied, grinning in spite of herself. "See you."

House left, feeling insanely proud of Wilson. He was going to have to tell him how much it meant to him that he had just broken his daughter's heart.

* * *

Julia waited a full minute after House had left to make sure no one else would come in before she started crying again. Jesus, had she just lied for that revolting, disgraceful, arrogant creep? How had she come up with that crazy story, anyway; it was a damn good work of fiction. And of course, she had obviously turned into one hell of an actress as well. What a performance! She had lied to Dr. House and lived to think about it. Telling about it would be a different story if he didn't figure out what was wrong with her soon… 

Who cared? Julia was miserable. She had just lost Dr. Wilson, someone she had thought would be a part of her life forever. He would blab to Chase; it made her sick to think what he might say. "Julia's a prude…a tease…a lesbian…" The possibilities were endless! Dr. Foreman would be cold and disdainful, treating her as inferior as she felt. Dr. Cameron might feel sorry for her, try to help, then gently explain that one shouldn't deliberately try to break up a marriage...and never could she, in good conscience, tell the truth because she had started the lie!

"That does it," she declared. "When I get out of here, I'm going to become a nun. No more men! No more creeps like Wilson, unattainable petty boys like Chase, abusive jerks like Len, or cynics like House. I don't need the drama."

Julia cried herself to sleep and saw them all in her dreams – Wilson, Chase, Len, and House, combining themselves into the ultimate nightmare. They chased her from the safety of the hospital into the biting cold of the night. They followed her everywhere she went to try to feel safe, including the cemetery. Apparently things dead but not gone weren't enough to frighten them away. They chased her further into it, closing in. Julia stopped when she couldn't go any further and saw a hole in the ground, freshly dug and inviting her into its abyss. The stone at its head read "Julia Louise Peterson: November 7, 1986 – July 18, 2005: Beloved by no one." She screamed, not sure if it was out of heartbreak or terror. Their faces leered at her, taking ghoulish delight in her fright. Then their faces changed, and they were just as afraid as she was. _Something was behind her, rising out of the hole._ They turned and scattered, leaving her to its mercy. She looked at the phantom, a thing already dead, not recognizing his face but knowing it all too well…

It reached up and pulled her into the grave with it.

She fell…

Julia woke up, crying out as she sat up. She was sweating and yet so cold, her face wet with tears she had cried during her sleep.

Alice, the nurse that had snapped the picture of happier times when Julia had felt almost invincible, hurried into the room. "What's wrong, honey?" she asked as she felt Julia's forehead, concerned.

"Nothing," Julia managed. "A nightmare. It was…very real. Will you sit with me for a little while?"

"Sure."

Alice stayed until Julia fell asleep. When she woke up the next morning, her fever was high and the only thing haunting her from her sleep was that after the dream it had been mysteriously black and silent.

* * *

Any constructive criticism, praise, or questions you have would be greatly appreciated! Chapter 12 will come once I get an idea of what you would like to see more (or less) of! Thanks for stopping by!  
Cara/house-of-insanity 


	12. Daddy's Little Girl Is Dying

Thermy: Thanks for breaking the policy on responding to other people's reviews; I couldn't have explained that as nicely. :P I'm glad you're interested!  
Nikelodean: Sorry about Wilson being out of character...I tried to play it safe in this chapter, and hopefully he'll get better in future ones. I agree; after reading over Chapter 11, that really isn't something he would do. Not this soon, anyway.  
Mollisk: Nope! Julia/James romance isn't going to work out, but hopefully they can at least repair their friendship!  
JacobedRose: Thanks for complimenting House's reaction! I wasn't sure if that was a little too understated for him. Also, I'm hoping to repair the Julia/James friendship, so telling him the truth would have made that harder to accomplish realistically.  
Runs with sissors: Glad you liked the twist! It was an interesting idea...I'm not feeling too confident about it, but hopefully it will fit into the story better as more chapters keep coming. And her reaction to him will make more sense in (I believe) the next chapter. Keep reading; I appreciate that you've been reviewing since the beginning!  
Regina Halliwell: I'm glad you like the story! Thanks for taking the time to let me know; I appreciate it so much.  
Sincerely Juicy: I'm going to use Thermy's words to explain the seizures and dizziness thing. "Seizures and dizziness are symptoms of late-stage AIDS, actually to be more accurate they're symptoms of the opportunistic infections associated with AIDS." I know I skimped a little on keeping things like hospital procedures true to real life, but I DID research the disease before I started writing this! I will admit, though, that I have been using HIV and AIDS interchangeably, and that's not correct. Just to confirm; Julia has full-blown AIDS and the reason why she contracted it and the fact that she has gone so long untreated mean that it is a death sentence. Also, in regards to the whole needing-more-House/Julia interaction...you are so right! This is going very slowly, but I believe the next chapter (and some in this chapter) will have some of what you're looking for. Thanks for taking the time to review and tell me what's on your mind!

Here's Chapter 12, it's really sad, and kind of short. Next chapter will probably be very long, though, so no worries!

* * *

The first thing Dr. Cuddy usually did in the morning was take an aspirin in preparation for her day and go to her office to read the paper. This morning was different. She figured starting out the day on the right foot wasn't going to help at all once she did what she had to do; that was breaking Dr. House's heart. But it wasn't only him she was worried about; it was the rest of the doctors, everyone from Wilson to Chase, Cameron, and Foreman. She was worried about Julia, and her mother, and that step-dad of hers. How would they react?

She went to the lounge and started the coffee machine. Then she sat down and waited.

Dr. Foreman was the first to arrive. "Good morning, Dr. Cuddy," he said, sounding surprised.

"Hi," she said nervously, feeling very out of place and very anxious. She watched him watching her. "I'm not here to bust you for working on the newspaper crosswords instead of doing your job, Foreman; I just have something I want to share with you and the others when everyone arrives."

"I wasn't worried about that," he lied as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

Dr. Cameron arrived second. "Morning, Foreman, Dr. Cuddy," she said, not sounding surprised at all to see her boss.

"Cameron," they said in unison.

"I have something I need to tell you all once the others arrive," Dr. Cuddy told her.

Alison Cameron always hoped for the best, but she wasn't stupid and could guess what Dr. Cuddy wanted to tell them. "I see," she said slowly as she prepared her own coffee.

Dr. Chase arrived next, two minutes after he was supposed to be there. "Sorry I'm late," he began, then stopped as he saw Dr. Cuddy. "Good morning, Dr. Cuddy."

"Dr. Chase," she said. "I need to tell you all something after Dr. House gets here."

He nodded, then set to making his own coffee.

Dr. Wilson, looking like hell, came in next. "Hello…everyone," he said, eyeing Cuddy. Was she about to bust him for last night? Had Julia told on him?

"I have something I need to tell you all," she repeated, sounding bored but not any less scared of the statement.

Relief washed over him, and he nodded and poured himself coffee. This morning he didn't take anything with it; he needed it as strong as possible. He hadn't gotten much sleep last night.

Ten minutes later, Dr. House still hadn't arrived.

"If he doesn't get here soon, I will need to get going," Dr. Cuddy told them all.

"Couldn't we just pass the message along to him?" Cameron asked.

"I'd rather he hear it directly from me," she said.

They fell silent again, and waited for another five minutes.

"I'm sorry," Cuddy said. "I need to tell you all now. When Dr. House gets here, would you please send him to my office? Don't tell him anything."

They all nodded.

"It's about Julia Peterson."

Cameron felt her heart drop, Foreman narrowed his eyes and leaned forward, Chase's face donned a look of concern, and Dr. Wilson mentally rolled his eyes.

"She has full-blown AIDS."

No one spoke.

Cameron began rummaging through her purse for a tissue. "Oh, my God," she murmured, swiping at her eyes. "I can't believe this."

"House will be devastated," Foreman observed quietly.

Chase swallowed, his mouth dry. "I wasn't expecting this," he stammered, wondering how this had come to be.

Dr. Wilson just stared ahead, his right hand making a fist. His knuckles turned white. He had no idea what to say. He felt bad for her, of course, but AIDS was a disease that was almost always the infected person's fault. And the alternative – the infected person not having any choice in the matter – wouldn't make him feel any better. He lost, she lost, they all lost either way.

"Cameron, do you have any more tissues?" Cuddy asked.

* * *

Dr. House was in a panic. He was late – damn traffic – and he didn't know what he should do first. Should he go visit his daughter, who was no doubt not in the best condition at this point, mentally or physically, or should he report to the lounge, where he would find his much needed and deserved coffee?

_Daughter_, he decided begrudgingly. _I need to check her vitals anyway. _

House made his way to room 116 and pushed the door open. "Good morning, sunshine," he said, not sounding particularly sarcastic _or_ sincere.

"Good morning, Dr. House," Julia croaked.

He narrowed his eyes when he heard her voice. "You sound…worse," he observed decidedly.

"I know," she said miserably. "What do you want from me?"

"You think you can manage to walk over to the scale and stand on it for five seconds while I check your weight?" he asked.

Julia glared at him. "I wouldn't do this for just anyone," she growled, slowly but surely sliding herself out of bed and walking over to the scale.

"108 pounds," he announced. "Two less than yesterday. How tall are you?"

"5'3"."

"Hmmm. A bit less than one would expect for your height," he mused. "Okay. Let's do the temperature thing." The thermometer showed a 102.9˚F. "You have a fever," he told her.

"Big surprise there," she shot at him.

"Jesus, you're hostile today," he commented, recording her stats on a clipboard.

"Well, you're in the best mood I've ever seen you in, so I guess we're even," she argued. "You have nothing new to tell me? I'll even give you credit for something obvious, like, 'You're really sick.'"

"Nothing," House replied. "We're working on it, alright? These things take time."

"What, you think I _want_ to get out of here? This has been like a vacation, compared to being at home. Yeah, it's terrible to say, but Mom is no picnic. You have no idea how much I'm enjoying having someone clean up after me when _I_ get sick for a change."

House rolled his eyes. "Are you going to tell me that you want me and your mother to start a joint custody arrangement next? You know, you're 19 years old, technically an adult. You could just leave. Get a place of your own."

"I can't afford to take care of myself and get into college while I'm still under middle-age on a waitress's pay," Julia told him. "And I wouldn't move into your place if you asked me to. Not for five minutes."

"Why not?"

"We probably have very different interior decorating tastes, I can guarantee there's not enough closet space for the both of us, and we don't like each other."

House narrowed his eyes. "What petty reasons you give," he said. "Surely we could work something out."

"You won't even let me call you dad!" Julia shouted.

It was hard to come up with a response for that one. "Don't tell me you actually _want_ to call me dad. I'm a jerk. I haven't been there all through your childhood, I'm treating you badly now, and I will continue to treat you badly unless…"

"Unless what?"

"There's nothing I can think of that would get me to stop treating you badly," House decided. "Therefore, this argument is pointless."

"You're the one who brought it up!" she screamed. "I don't get you. You want me to move into your house –"

"Apartment."

"You want me to move into your apartment, and yet you won't let me call you dad."

"I never said I wanted you to move in," House protested, suddenly feeling panicky all over again. "I just wanted to know why you wouldn't."

"Then this whole argument is pointless," she assessed.

"I said that ten seconds ago," he told her, walking to the door. "Try to keep up with the rest of the class."

He shut the door, not knowing exactly how he felt about what had just happened. It would be weird as hell having some teenager living in his apartment, that was true, but…for some reason, he wanted her to want to try it out. He wanted her to wish things were different between them. But…why? So he could throw it back in her face that he didn't care? That didn't seem right.

"Kids," he muttered to himself as he found himself at the door to the lounge. He pushed it open, and stopped. Cameron and Cuddy were sitting at the table crying, Wilson looked angry, Foreman was wearing his concerned-doctor look, and Chase looked truly saddened.

"What's wrong?" House asked as cheerfully as he could, walking towards the coffee. "Waiting for me? Concerned I had gotten into a car accident or had a stroke and ended up on the bathroom floor? Relax, my friends, I'm here. Nothing to worry about."

Cameron, the only one who really showed any visual reaction to this, burst into a fresh wave of tears.

"Tears of relief, I hope, Dr. Cameron," House said.

She glared at him. "Would you kindly shut up?" she demanded. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

This was interesting. He'd never known Dr. Cameron to be mad at him. Frustrated, certainly, but never mad. She was much too enamored with him.

"Dr. House," Cuddy said, sounding like she had a terrible cold. "I know you asked me not to, but I ran ELISA for Julia Peterson. I just wanted to rule it out…"

"And…"

"It came back positive."

House stared at her. "What?"

"She has AIDS, House. Julia Peterson is dying of AIDS."

* * *

He wouldn't talk to anybody at first. Cuddy had graciously decided not to push the issue of work with him, and just let him sit in his office and sulk. She offered him her condolences and decided she should just leave him alone. Foreman and Chase had said they were sorry too, but they didn't know what else to say. They figured maybe he needed time to himself. Wilson hadn't come near him, having his own thoughts to deal with. And they had all urged Cameron not to try it.

"He'll get mad," they said. "He'll yell and scream and it won't do him or you any good."

"He's her doctor," she insisted. "I don't care how he feels about it. He should be the one to deliver the news to her, at the very least." Armed with nothing but her bravado, Dr. Alison Cameron knocked on House's door.

No answer. It was a formality she'd decided to take, just to be polite. She pushed open the door and walked in. "House? How are you doing?"

Nothing.

"I guess this is pretty hard for you," she tried, knowing how stupid she must sound. "Julia has a way of working herself into your heart pretty quickly, doesn't she?"

"You make it sound like she's everyone's daughter."

She almost leapt for joy; he had spoken! "Of course not," she said softly. "I just know that this is very hard for me. I can't imagine what it feels like for you."

"I don't know her," House said. "Just because someone shares your genes doesn't mean that you love them. Families are people who are unlucky enough to be stuck together. They don't automatically love each other. I'm fine. Alma's the one who's going to need your cheap condolences."

His indifference hurt her, partly because she knew how much it would pain Julia to hear it. "House, you know, you're her doctor. I think you should be the one to tell her."

"She won't see it that way. She won't see it like you do." House looked her in the eyes, and she saw him struggling to keep his nonchalance at the surface of his emotions. "Julia will see it as me, the man responsible for her life, taking it away from her. And I don't know about you, Dr. Cameron, but I have had quite enough of hopeless tears for some time."

"You know, either way, you're screwed."

Her boldness surprised him. "What do you mean?"

"If you tell her, yeah, she'll probably cry. A lot. If you don't tell her, she'll come to you anyway. You're her father, damn it. You're supposed to be there for her. Not just when you want to be, but whenever she needs you."

"Since when did you become the authority one what I'm supposed to do?"

"Since when did you decide you know everything about parenting?"

"I want out," House said. "I never asked to be a father! She's 19 years old; she doesn't need a dad."

"Even if she never had one before? And now, will never get the chance to have one again?"

"Stop talking."

"Why? I'm just putting into words what your conscience is already putting into your heart."

"I don't have a heart."

"I beg to differ."

"What do you want from me Cameron?"

"I want you to do your job."

"What would that be? I don't know who I am anymore. The lines of doctor and father kind of run together."

"Then does it matter what position you choose either way?" Cameron leaned closer to him; he was behind his desk, she was in front. They were nose to nose, and she could have done anything at that point. She chose to do her job. "House, tell her that she is dying. And be there with her when it happens." She turned and walked out of the office, knowing she had done all she could to bring this family together.

* * *

Chapter 13 is coming soon! If you could tell me what's going through your mind after reading this, that would be great. Thanks for stopping by!


	13. Bad News Reaches Far And Wide

Unfortunately, I don't have eons of time like I usually do to personally reply to my reviews (and, like Miss Manners, I am distraught...or is is Ms.?) So I'm just going to say thank-you, first, to everybody who reviewed; as always, your input is much appreciated and I'm so glad to have you reading! Now, onto the folks, who I wanted to elaborate on my response for justa little bit more...  
Dafina: I've tried to write some original stuff before, but I hate doing organized things like making plots and character sketches and all that jazz before I start the actual writing part, so most of my ideas fall through. I'm hoping some time just having fun on this site with characters already created for me will get me slowly into the swing of things. Maybe in a few months I'll go back to the orignal work. Thanks for thinking I could:)  
Mollisk, The Lilac Elf of Lothlorien: I know, this is extremely depressing, but I DID go so far as to classify it as angst to warn you all. Shrug I guess I can understand if you didn'tbelieve me, especially after the cross-dressing episode in chapter seven. :P Anyways, sorry to depress you, but it's not going to get much more lighthearted. This will have a semi-happy ending, but I'm not sure if it's going to be the "happily-ever-after" many people expect.  
Iscariot: You're absolutely right about not putting into words what the readers direct you to. (Actually, now I'm guilty of what you're accusing me of; what can I say? I aim to please.) My point of view exactly; I'm just very narcissistic in the way that I enjoy hearing people tell me how wickedly talented I am...at any cost. I started this to have fun, though; thanks for reminding me of that goal! (Also, that part about Survivor made me laugh - thanks very much for that!) No, I am not writing from experience, I just have a very overactive imagination and lots of free time on my hands. Glad you're still enjoying the story; I hope it captures you're interest to the end, because you write the best reviews. :P Muah, not only am I a narcissist, but I'm also a sycophant...could this day get any worse?

Here's Chapter 13...A summary would be useless if you're going to read it anyway, so I hope you enjoy it as much as possible, as it's getting sadder and sadder...

* * *

House sat in his office for another half an hour, then came out. "Have any of you talked to her yet?" he asked his team. They shook their heads. "Look, one of you go and ask her to call her mother, and come get me when she gets here. I'm going to tell them what's going on. Then you guys can explain treatments and how the disease will progress. Deal?"

Chase nodded grimly and said he'd go and ask her to call her mother. He turned and walked out of the lounge.

"Excuse me," Foreman said, sighing. "I'm going to go and get in my clinic hours."

"How can you think about the clinic at a time like this?" Cameron asked him.

He shrugged. "Work is therapeutic for me. Page me if you need me." He glanced at House. "House, I'll do whatever you want me to. You've just got to ask."

"I want you to oversee her treatments," House said immediately. "You're cleverly distant enough from the situation that you can be objective about it. Very useful thing for a doctor to be. I'm proud of you, Foreman. As proud as I can be."

"Thanks," he said, then turned and left the lounge.

House was left alone with Cameron. "What do you think? Reasonable?"

She nodded. "Very reasonable."

"You're satisfied, then? I don't need to do anymore fatherly things today? I'm really not sure I'm up to it."

"House, it doesn't matter if I'm satisfied," Cameron told him. "For once, I don't want you to think about how I feel. You've got to do what you think is necessary."

"Then it's okay if I go home after work and drink myself to death?"

She stared at him, trying to tell whether or not he was serious. "Most people would consider that unnecessary."

"I'm not most people."

"That's the truth." Cameron paused, then added, "What's getting to you the most about it?"

"About what?"

"The fact that your estranged daughter is dying of AIDS."

"Probably the fact that there's nothing I can do to change it." House shifted uncomfortably. "Cameron, emotions are useless right now. What do you want me to do? You want me to get mad, kick something? Yell at someone? Kill myself?"

"All you need is to function," she said, echoing the words he had spoken to Julia three days ago. "If that's what you need to do, I strongly suggest doing it. Except for that last part."

"Hard to function when you're six feet under."

"Yeah." Cameron stood up and went to the door. "House, if you don't mind, I'm going to go and get in my clinic hours, too. Foreman's right; work _is_ therapeutic."

He waited until she was gone, then laughed quietly to himself. "I'm sure you'll feel that way when something like this happens to you, Alison. I'm sure."

* * *

Dr. Chase cleared his throat and tapped on Julia Peterson's door.

"Come in," she said weakly.

He obediently opened the door and stepped into the room, not able to look at her.

Julia smiled nervously and sat up. "What's up, Dr. Chase?" she asked, not sure she was up to having a conversation with him today. Her luck with platonic friendships hadn't been so good lately.

"Julia, Dr. House believes he has a diagnosis," he said. "He'd like you to call your mother so he can tell you both at the same time."

"I see," she said slowly. "Well, you may tell Dr. House that my mother is most likely in the middle of a very dire hangover and she's not going anywhere until she feels better."

Damn. He hadn't thought of that. "Are you sure?" he asked helplessly. "This is kind of an urgent matter. She couldn't even manage to drive herself here?"

"I'm not sure if she could make it out of the driveway," Julia told him apologetically. "Why does she need to be here? Is it really serious?"

"Somewhat," he replied gravely.

"Fatal?" she whispered.

Chase swallowed. "I'm not allowed to discuss it." _We follow him like it's written in the Bible. "Thou shalt not defy Dr. House."_

"Shit," she said quietly. "That's not good. That's very…troubling."

"Not necessarily," he replied. "He'd just rather be the one to tell you, is all, being your primary physician and your father."

"He told you?" she said, sounding surprised.

"We all guessed, actually," Chase told her, grinning in spite of himself.

"I was gonna say, that doesn't sound like something he'd do," Julia said. "He seems like he wants things kept private. Everyone knows, huh?"

Chase nodded.

"He knows that they know?"

He nodded again.

"Okay." She smiled at him sadly. "Well, I'll give her a call and see if she can make it in. It might take a while, though."

* * *

"House," Chase said as he walked into the lounge. "House, we have a problem."

"Problem? Did you botch it?" House was on his feet in an instant. "Chase, come on, I give you one thing to do and you screw it up! I was under the impression you had brains when you were hired."

"Yes, of course," he said irritably. "It's my fault Julia's mother has a monster hangover and can't drive herself over here. All my fault."

"Well, genius, go over there and give her a ride," House suggested.

"I can't leave during the middle of the day!" Chase exclaimed. "Cuddy would never allow it!"

"Dr. Cuddy, for your information, is feeling so sorry for me at the moment that she'd let me get away with murder," House informed him. "Surely she'd allow you to arrange a little carpool so maybe I could get my job done sometime today."

Chase rolled his eyes, but did as he was told. Minutes later, he was on the road with the address to a house he'd never seen and the name of a woman he'd never met.

* * *

"Mrs. Peterson," Chase yelled, knocking on the door. "Are you there?" _That's it. I'm going to kick down the door. _First he tried the knob, and thankfully the door was unlocked.

Robert Chase entered the miniscule townhouse on the bad side of town and winced at the smell. Looking around, he saw it hadn't been cleaned in quite some time. "Mrs. Peterson?" he called.

Chase wandered through the first level of the house, a kitchen, living room, and dining room, and found no sign of life. He glanced down the stairs to the basement and decided no one, not even a drunk, would ever try their luck in staying down there. _I'm surprised these people haven't noticed they've got mold coming out of their ears in this place._ Then Chase stared up the stairs. Probably, Alma Peterson was in her bedroom, sleeping like the dead, or in her bathroom poised over the toilet, unable to hear him over the sound of her own retching. He came upstairs and looked around. "Mrs. Peterson?" he called again.

"What?" called a voice from the hall bathroom.

Chase pushed the door open and saw Julia's mother kneeling on the floor beside the toilet. _Just as we suspected._

She looked at him weirdly, trying to place him. Then a look of horror crossed her face. "Oh, my God. We didn't do it, did we?"

It took him a second to figure out what she was talking about. "Oh…no," he said adamantly. "No." He was smiling on the inside, not sure why he found that amusing.

"Good," she said. "My husband would kill you." She tilted her head to the side and continued. "You look awfully familiar, though."

"You might have seen me at the hospital," he told her. "I'm one of the doctors working on your daughter's case."

Alma squinted. "What'd you say your name was?"

_I didn't._ "Dr. Chase," he said. "Dr. House, the primary physician on Julia's case, believes he has a diagnosis, and would like you to be present when he tells Julia. Your daughter asked me to come by and make sure you were up to getting there." A little white lie never hurt anyone.

Alma just nodded and reached for the counter to help her balance herself as she stood. "I guess I'm done in here," she said. "I've been sleeping by the damn toilet all night. I might have overdone the alcohol a little bit."

"It happens," he said simply, feeling his heart close. She reminded him of his own mother, always pretending nothing was wrong when in fact everything was wrong.

"I'm so hungry," Alma complained as she walked down the stairs. "Don't I have time to make myself some breakfast? I could even cook you something. I'm a real good cook, you know." She winked at him. "You like scrambled eggs?"

Chase began to feel squeamish. He figured eating something prepared in that kitchen was like licking the bottom of a dumpster after the trash is freshly emptied. "That's quite alright," he assured her, putting a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to steer her towards the door. "Perhaps we could make a stop at the McDonald's drive-through."

"Okay," she said decidedly. "Let me grab my purse."

Five minutes later, they were ordering breakfast. Chase ordered an Egg McMuffin, a pancake platter, and a large Coke for Alma, and a sausage biscuit and a medium orange juice for himself.

"Your total is $8.06," the voice said. "Please drive to the second window."

Chase obediently pulled up next to the second window and took out his wallet, preparing to pay his share.

"Damn it," Alma said as she rifled through her wallet. "I've only got thirty-seven cents on me." She glanced up at him sheepishly, clearly expecting him to yell at her. "Sorry."

"It's fine," he said, pulling out the remainder of cash he needed. "I don't mind."

"You're a nice guy," Alma told him gratefully.

Chase paid the cashier, took the bag of food, and handed it to Alma. "That smells good," she said as she bit into her Egg McMuffin. She chewed slowly and daintily, then gave it a strange look. "I guess fragrances are misleading."

Robert Chase sighed as he unwrapped his sausage biscuit. It was going to be a long ride to the hospital.

* * *

House sat at the lounge table, unmoved from where he was an hour ago. _Where the hell is Chase?_ he thought angrily. _Surely he can handle Alma. Between the two, I'm almost sure he's the brighter one…_

He glanced up as Chase triumphantly walked into the room. "What took you so long?" he asked. "I always had the impression that you were a fast driver and knew how to deal with middle-aged female alcoholics."

"Not funny," Chase told him. "After convincing her that we hadn't slept together at some point in the past 24 hours –" House chuckled sharply " – she decided she needed some breakfast to ease the hangover. It ended up being my treat because _someone_ only had thirty-seven cents. Then we pulled into the parking lot, and she threw up in my car."

House laughed. "Your day has been almost as bad as mine."

Chase had to admit, House still had him beat by a long shot. "She's in with Julia now if you'd like to go and ruin their lives."

"My pleasure," House said as he stood up. _My pleasure? 'If you'd like to go and ruin their lives,' he says, and I say, 'My pleasure?' Maybe I'm _not _getting the hang of this dad stuff._ House had discovered sarcasm masked the hurt and had been busy making up cracks like that in his mind since Cameron had convinced him to tell them.

House walked down the hall of the ICU to room 116. He pushed the door open and came in. Alma was sitting on a chair next to Julia holding a plastic tub containing fresh vomit. Julia had a hand on her back and was telling her to take deep breaths. It bothered him more than a little bit to see this. He was reminded of Julia telling him it was like a vacation to be at the hospital because someone would clean up after her for a change. _Even in the face of death and uncertainty, she still does her daughterly duty._

"Dr. House," Julia said. "I hear you have a diagnosis for us."

"I do," he replied, business as usual. "Morning, Alma."

"Greg," she said, trying to sound dignified.

"I heard about your adventures with Dr. Chase this morning," House continued, subconsciously avoiding the inevitable. "He said to tell you that he had fun and would love to do it again sometime."

"He told me we didn't –"

"Mom!" Julia said. "Please. Just pay attention, try to focus. I gather that this is pretty important."

"It is," he said, trying to shut out the nagging prediction in the back of his mind that he was going to break her heart. "Julia, I want you to realize that this diagnosis will change your life." _Quality and quantity will be greatly diminished_, he added silently.

She nodded, absorbing the information. "Okay. What is it? What's it called? Why do I have it? How do we treat it?"

"You ask too many questions."

"You give too few answers. Just tell me!"

He shut his eyes, not knowing how to say it.

"Greg?" Alma said. "Spit it out!"

"AIDS," he mumbled.

"Excuse me?" Alma sputtered. "Did you just say what I thought you said?"

"Yes," he replied, a little bit louder this time. "Julia is dying of AIDS."

Water gathered in Alma's eyes, and she looked at Julia and said, "She can't be dying. I need her."

"Stop talking about me like I'm not here!" Julia cried. "I'm not a child anymore! I don't know if I ever got the chance to be! This is _my _life we're talking about here." She blinked rapidly, trying not to let anymore hateful words spill out. She was sure this would result in another hangover in the morning as it was. "Dr. House, are you sure? Are you absolutely sure?"

"Yes," he said, confident that Cuddy had run the test twice. She wouldn't have wanted to be right, not about something like this.

"Please tell me you're playing some sort of cruel joke on me, House," Alma sobbed. "It's not funny, and I hate you for it, but it's a joke, right?"

House shook his head, feeling a lump rise in his throat that he didn't want to acknowledge as pity…or sadness…or any other identifiable emotion. "I can be an asshole, I agree, but I don't mess around with people's health," he said. "I'm sorry, for what it's worth." He turned to the door.

"Where are you going?" Julia demanded. "You're just going to walk away from me? Because I'm never going to get better and be the perfect, successful daughter you'd want to take credit for? Real mature, House. At least give me something to take the pain away if I'm going to die."

"Dr. Foreman will take care of that for you," House said, looking away. He didn't understand it at all; something about the hopeless expression on her face and the way her arm was outstretched to him for help without her even knowing it was devastating in a way he never thought would touch him.

"You're my doctor," she protested. "You're my…you know." Julia couldn't bring herself to say it. God, she wanted to, but she couldn't. He didn't want her to; it was simple enough to understand. And hell, she shouldn't hurt him anymore than she already had; shouldn't even try.

"I know," he said as he opened the door. "What do you want me to do?" And he walked away, feeling more unsure of himself than ever before. For once, Dr. House wasn't entirely positive he had done the right thing, and wasn't entirely positive he wanted to go through the trouble of changing it.

* * *

Reviews are always, always, ALWAYS appreciated. Thanks for reading!


	14. The Time Machine

Amber Chase: Glad you're back, I'm happy things went well with Jacob (I'm so jealous - I don't have a boyfriend! Maybe I'm too weird for most guys...:P), and thanks for reading! Also, I don't think it's possible to be infected with AIDS just because you kiss someone. :P You have to somehow get the infected person's bodily fluid into your system...:) Thanks for reading!  
Dafina: Thanks so much, wow, you're just making my day with the insane compliments. :P Hopefully soon some brilliant idea will come to me and I can start another House fan-fic after this one ends. And yes, I am extremely OCD about grammar and spelling and all that jazz, and it makes me really happy that you noticed. :P Thanks for reading.  
Thermy: Haha, I'm so glad you got to learn about the anatomy of a sausage biscuit...that's fascinating, I never thought there were so many ways to say it. :P Thanks for reading!  
Mollisk: Agghhh, this chapter's going to be even sadder than the last one:( Sorry, but the next few will be slightly more lighthearted. Thanks for reading!  
Sincerely Juicy: Hangover because of caffeine...LOL, it's possible, I think. I wouldn't know, I don't drink coffee. Gasp! Thanks for reading!  
Irock708: Holy cow, I had no idea my writing could spark those kinds of emotions! This means I've reached a whole new level in the art of writing. :P Sorry, I think House is appropriately humbled in this chapter...There will be a semi-happy ending, I promise...And the mystery of the man in the dream is solved in this chapter as well..."The Mystery of the Man in the Dream." That sounds like a Nancy Drew novel. :P Thanks for reading.  
Nikelodean: I didn't mean to make tears come to your eyes, I'm sorry! I promise, the Tinman finds his heart in this chapter...or at least what's left of it after Julia breaks it...unintentionally, I mean. Give it a read, see what you think. Thanks for reading!  
Regina Halliwell: Haha, I'm suffering fan-fiction withdrawal because I didn't post yesterday. :P Here's the next chapter, and thanks for reading.  
JacobedRose: I know it looks hopeless right now, but I promise things will work out for Julia! Her life is going to be short, yes, but this last portion of her life will be filled with good things! Trust in the writer...:P Thanks for reading!  
The Lilac Elf of Lothlorien: I agree, this story is extremely depressing. It's been a lot harder to write than I thought because I'm trying to do justice to the story I'm telling. I also feel like such a jerk; in the moments when I forget Julia isn't real and I talk about all of these terrible things happening to her, it's like, "What kind of messed-up person am I to create this nice, innocent character and then ruin her life like this?" But I promise things will get a bit happier. Thanks for reading!  
Reitashnehelena: Wow, that makes my day, knowing that people are out there recommending this story. :P Thanks very much for taking the time to read and review. House's pairing...meaning, his romance? Sorry, I'm an idiot, I'm not sure I know what you mean. If you mean who he's going to end up with, you've got to read and find out:P Thanks for reading!

Whew! I love the reviews; this is so exciting. :P I'm so glad you all are enjoying the story. This will be one of the saddest, if not THE saddest, chapters in the story. Sorry, ya'all, it has to be done. Anyways, enough from me, take a read, and see what you think.Catch you at the end of the chapter.

* * *

Dr. House heard a slight tap on his office door. At least, he thought he did. It was so quiet, he wondered for a moment if he had imagined it, but then he looked up and saw a strange young woman standing outside. "Come in," he said.

She did, and he was surprised to recognize her as Julia Peterson, herself. She was wearing street clothes, her hair hanging over her face as if ashamed of it, and the pretty blue eyes that mirrored his own had taken on a look of discouragement that made them unrecognizable.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"I'm going home," she said. "I'm not going to die here. It feels selfish to ask Mom to take care of me, especially once things get harder, but I'm going to look into hospice. I think with everything I had set aside for college, I should be able to afford –"

He held up a hand to stop her. "Wait a minute. You can't go home. You need to be treated for this."

"I've already spoken to Dr. Foreman," she replied. "He's getting me medicine to keep me from being a pain in the ass when it starts to hurt the most." Julia gave him a small, understated smile. "He advised me against it, just so you don't go and rip his head off after I leave. It's my body, my choice. You understand."

"Yeah, I guess I do," House said. He took a deep breath, not sure if he was emotionally fit enough to get into this now. "But I'm having a hard time understanding how you can be so relaxed about this. If it's your body and your choice, that means _you_ went wrong somewhere. _You_ screwed it up."

Julia bit her lip, the expression on her face sad but her eyes taking a turn for anger. "Don't reproach me," she warned him. "I didn't do anything wrong, and I don't feel the least bit guilty. If you weren't such a cynical, blind asshole, maybe you'd understand."

"Good to know you remember how things are between us," he shot back at her. "Then at least you know not to come to me for sympathy. You won't be getting any from me."

"I don't want your sympathy," she told him. "I want you to get on your knees and beg me to forgive you. I want you to grow up and stop hiding from me and mom, because sooner or later you're going to have to face reality. And most of all, I want you to please take a goddamn fatherly interest in me just once and ask me every question on your mind! You think you've gotten enough surprises this week. You haven't seen anything yet."

"I don't owe you any of those things," House said. "And you don't owe me any explanations. It's _your_ body, _your_ choice, remember? _Your_ decision whether to own up to your mistakes."

"It wasn't a mistake, House," she fumed. "It wasn't a mistake, or an accident, or anything. It wasn't even my fault."

"Oh, yeah, I'm sure," he said sarcastically. "Then how did it happen then? Was your self-esteem in a depression because of Len, the step-father from hell? Does that give you an excuse to go out and try to feel good about yourself because you're hot in bed? Or did some kid fool you into thinking he loved you just so he could get laid?"

"Shut…up…"

"Or was it drugs, Julia? Did you decide to get sloppy with the drugs one day because you felt low and needed a fix to get yourself through the next day? Did you have some good friend that got you the needles you needed to shoot up and you just didn't feel like questioning their assistance?"

"What do you want me to do, cry?" she asked helplessly, wishing she'd never decided to try this. He didn't want to hear it, and what would she say if he made a miraculous turn-around and decided he wanted to know every little detail? How would she ever find a way to put it into words?

House stopped. "Oh, God. No. Please don't cry. Anything but crying." _Could this day get any worse?_ he asked himself.

"Too late." Julia began rummaging through her pockets for a tissue or a napkin – anything she could use to mop up her face. She must have given them all to her mother after they had been informed of her diagnosis…

House sighed and put his hand on her shoulder. "Sit down," he told her tiredly, steering her towards a chair.

"I really shouldn't," she protested as she sank into the chair. "Haven't I caused you enough trouble today? Between diagnosing me with those devastating results and then having to watch me sit here in agony like you can't believe, Jesus, this must be impossible for you."

"It's kind of hard to take you seriously when you're pretending to break down," House told her. "Most women usually aren't rational enough to be sarcastic when they've reached the point where they just can't take anymore. At least, not around me. You're my daughter, though; I guess you inherited it. You'd be invincible if you weren't dying."

Julia's response was to glare at him and then look away as she felt more tears welling up in her eyes.

He mentally kicked himself, knowing that was probably not the right thing to say.

"Tell me," he said. "Tell me how it happened."

"You really mean it?" she asked hopefully, swiping at her cheeks.

"You seem to need closure," he said, shrugging.

Julia shook her head. "I'll only tell you if you want to hear it for _you_. I can't burden other people with my troubles, not even my biological father. Everybody else has their own problems to deal with; they can't be bothered with what I have to say."

"Come on, Julia, if you're going to tell me, do it now."

She shook her head again, more forcefully this. "I won't do it. I can't tell you. You'd…I don't know what you'd do, but it wouldn't help."

"I'm getting tired of this."

"So why are you still asking me to tell you?"

"Because I want to know, damn it!" he shouted. _I really do_, he thought to himself. _Foiled again…I think this is known as reverse psychology._

"Okay, okay, I'll tell you," Julia said. She took a deep breath and sighed. "I haven't really told anyone this before, so hopefully you can excuse the tears and dramatic pauses and stuff."

"I'm listening," House said, bracing himself.

Julia opened her mouth to speak, and as she began he knew she wasn't really with him anymore, but now in the past as an observer of events completed long ago. He considered in the time it took her to breath before she spoke that time travel really was possible. If this was what it was, seeing your memories played out like they were movies, then the human race had already achieved something they had condemned to remain in their dreams.

"It was three years ago, when I was 16," she said, sounding like she was reading out of a textbook. "I had just gotten my driver's license, and I was feeling pretty smug because I thought now maybe I could get out of the house more often and not have to deal with everything there as much. But when I came home with it, the lamination not even cool yet, Len decided he had a much higher purpose for me now that I could drive. So that night, he forced me into driving him and his friends to some bar they like to hang out at. It was my job to get them there and back to their homes because I was the only one who wouldn't be trashed at the night's end. We got into the parking lot, they all went inside, and I waited out in the car.

"They were taking so long, and I really hard to go to the bathroom, so I went inside. It was about one o'clock in the morning at that point. When I came out of the restroom, I noticed this man looking at me strangely from across the room. I didn't like the way his eyes felt, like they were scrutinizing every inch of me, considering if I was good enough to be bothered with. I don't know his name, and he wasn't one of Len's friends. I was stupid enough to think that maybe if I just left he'd forget all about me. So I hurried out the door and started walking fast to my car, but it didn't take a rocket scientist to know he was following me. I started jogging, grabbing at the car keys, trying to get ahead of him enough that I would be safely locked inside by the time he caught up, but he was already too close for that. I reached the car and fumbled with the lock, and he came up behind me and…pulled out this knife…"

A wave of nausea hit House, and he leaned forward, closing his eyes. Somehow, he knew the story already and knew it was going to rip his heart out.

"He held it up to my throat and told me to open the car and get in. So I did." Julia gave the floor a petulant little stomp. "I shouldn't have done it. Looking back, I probably could have gotten away if I had thought to put up a fight. But no, I just did what he told me, and look at this: I'm still paying for it, three years later." It had taken her this long in the story to work up some tears. "I got in, he shoved me in further, then motioned me into the backseat with his knife. I was the sheep, he was the shepard. Then…" She shuddered violently, not wanting to say the next part, because it would be like having to go through it all over again. "Then, he told me to…take off my clothes…"

"Jesus," House said under his breath, not sure how much more he could bear.

"And then I choose to say, 'No! I won't!' but that doesn't matter now because he has nothing to be afraid of, with the tinted windows and a rain that had started pouring thunderously outside in the few seconds it had taken for us to get into the car. No one can hear or see us; he's calling all the shots." She was talking faster now, eyes darting, breathing rapidly, the tense she was using suddenly changing from past to resent. House reached out his hand to touch her and remind her it was all over, but he knew even before his hand collided with her shoulder that she was already gone. _A flashback._ He had to wait it out, forced to watch her relive every disgusting detail behind her eyes. He couldn't be there with her in her mind, but he'd be damned before he let her return to face it alone. "I'm frozen in the position I'm in; flat against the seat underneath him, my arms over my chest as my only defense. So he decides to take matters into his own hands. He has the knife, he makes the rules. He cuts away everything in his way, strewing all the scraps everywhere in the car. I wish it was winter so I could be wearing more layers, because the end comes too quickly, and the next part begins too soon…

"When he penetrates me, I close my eyes so I can pretend I'm not really here and this isn't really happening to me. The only thoughts running through my head are, _This isn't the way it should be! This isn't right! _My _body._ My _choice._ And somehow, none of that counts for shit because I have a large, sweating, crazy man on top of me, and the fact that he is bigger and stronger than me gives him the right to decide things for me that only _I_ should be allowed to decide. Considering these things makes the time pass faster…although I suppose when you enter eternity faster doesn't mean anything in the grand scheme of things. But the worst is yet to come.

"After he finally hears me begging him to please get off me, he listens. He almost politely rolls over and moves himself off of me, allowing me to scramble in every direction to gather up every piece of fabric I can find so I can cover myself up. I'm halfway to having my modesty back when he takes out that knife again. It looks less petrifying now that I've already lived through my worst fear, but not by much. He grabs my hair and brings me up so close to his face I can smell his breath, rancid from too much alcohol and cigarettes for my taste. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice the knife coming up to meet my throat, grinning at me as it catches the moonlight for one brief second. It's so sharp against my skin, and I know it's only going to get sharper once he embeds it in my throat and _Jesus_, I don't want to die like this! He begins to slice it slowly, tauntingly into me, and I feel the first drops of blood leaking out of me and I just wish he'd hurry up and get it over with…" Julia halted her story, jerked back into reality as she saw what happened next, relieved by it in a strange way.

"Then Len and his friends came and started crowding around the car, banging on it and yelling at me to unlock the doors. I ripped myself out of his grasp, slid into the front seat, and let them in. I thought Len might finish this guy off for getting in his car and messing with his step-daughter, but all he did was comment on the new odor the car had suddenly taken on and tell me to get going. What kind of man doesn't notice an extra person in his car and blood pouring from his step-daughter's neck?" she asked angrily. "By the time I got all of his friends and that man home, Len was asleep. I drove back home, left him laying there in that rotten stench, and went inside. I was going to tell Mom about what had happened, but she was already asleep and I wouldn't have had the words to tell her anyway. So I just cleaned myself up and went to bed." Julia buried her face in her hands. "The next morning, I decided to just move on with my life, because I didn't want to go back and relive it, not for anything in the world. I never thought it would come back to haunt me like this…"

House felt a tear slip down his own cheek. He quickly flicked it away, wondering if she was just trying to torture him, describing the whole thing in such detail. He hadn't understood what it was that rape victims experienced that kept them from getting back to normal like they wanted to, not until now. He felt his grief change to rage, and he wanted to kill someone. That man, obviously, whoever he was – he wanted to kill him a thousand times over, making him experience a thousand times the torture Julia had felt. But he wanted to kill Len, too, now more than ever. What kind of man doesn't notice his step-daughter has just been raped and almost murdered? What kind of man puts her in the situation in the first place?

_Jesus_, he thought disbelievingly. _It's my fault too. I'm her dad, and I let her go through that alone._ It didn't matter that he didn't know she existed when it happened. It didn't matter that when he had met her, he wouldn't have known her from Adam. It didn't matter that he had himself almost convinced that he didn't like her. _I caused this pain to my child. I am killing her._

"Daddy?" Julia said suddenly, unaware the word was slipping out until it had already passed her lips. She took his hand, knowing he needed her to tell him it was okay. "Are you alright?"

"God, Julia, I am so sorry," House said, not able to look at her. "I didn't think it could be that bad…"

"It's okay," she whispered.

"No, it's not," he said. "I'm so sorry."

They sat in silence after that, hand in hand, able to communicate now without words. It didn't take an interpreter specializing in telepathic messages to be able to tell what they were saying. _I never meant to do this to you._

Julia felt strong enough to speak now. "Look, Dad, I –"

"Why do you call me that?" he asked strangely. "I'm no kind of dad. I'm the worst father you ever could have gotten stuck with. Jesus, your family situation bites."

She smiled sadly. "I think you deserve the title. You just let me relive something I've been trying to forget about for three years, and you didn't make me do it alone. You're already more of a father than I've had for the past 19 years. Thank-you." She paused. "Now, I should probably get going. Dr. Chase was going to drive me and Mom home, and I don't want to keep him waiting."

"I could drive you," he suggested.

Julia shook her head. "You've probably got a lot to think about, and as Chase pointed out, his car already smells like vomit anyway."

House smiled, almost forgetting everything that had just happened. "That's true," he admitted. "If your mother tossed her cookies in _my_ car, I'd sue her."

Julia giggled, then looked away as an awkward silence came upon them. "Take care," she said, then hesitantly put her arms around him and gave him a hug. She held on a few seconds longer than most hugs last, but that was okay with House because it gave him time to react. When was the last time anyone had given him a hug? When was the last time anyone had been truly concerned that they had hurt him or offended him in some way? When was the last time anyone had cared enough about what he thought of them to tell him the truth? He couldn't remember, but it didn't matter, because for the first time since he'd found out that he had a daughter, he felt like a real father.

House wrapped his arms around her, and told her he'd miss her.

"I'll give you a call sometime," she said as she pulled away. "Maybe we could hang out, watch a football game or something. I'm into that manly shit."

"Maybe I should give your mother some credit," he admitted, grinning. "She did something right if you like football. That would be fun, I think. Thanks."

She smiled and waved, and then she was gone.

* * *

Okay, people, just take some deep breaths. That was really hard to write, and now I'm kind of mad at myself for doing this to poor Julia! It's all in your head...Julia lives in the world of my imagination and she isn't hurting right now...OMG, what's _wrong_ with me? I'm a strange one. Anyways, I think I've got some more lighthearted chapters coming after this before we get down to the really sad stuff. Reviews happiness. :P Thanks for reading! 


	15. Delayed Reactions

So I gather some mixed feelings about the last chapter? Yes? Sorry, friends; I know it's sad.  
Thermy: "Wow." Shocked. :P Is that a good wow, or a bad wow?  
Amber Chase: Glad you're enjoying the story even though it's getting so depressing! And it's so cool that you have a nice guy to hang around with; I'm really shy and I never get to meet people. I have one guy friend, Josh, but he's not older than me. :P Christian guys are very nice. I was a Christian for my whole life, but I kind of have some issues with the faith, so I'm stepping back for a little while and trying to understand it. Parental approval is awesome:P I know my parents are like, "Boys? You're not allowed to know boys; you're only 16!"  
The Lilac Elf of Lothlorien: Wow, I never thought I'd merit the word "genius" as an author of angst. I know this probably isn't the right reaction, but woohoo:P Thanks so much for reading.  
Dafina: You never know what House might do to Len, but wait until he's finished with Wilson after he finds out...:P Have I said too much? You'd better read! Thanks for stopping by.  
Runs with sissors: Holy cow, don't cry! I promise things will turn okay for the House family! Extremely sad at times, yes, but there is a silver lining to every cloud! Whatever that means. :P  
Boredandhomealone: I've rendered you speechless, have I? Interesting...:P Glad to hear it's vivid, at least. "Horrible, but good." The finest oxymoron I've heard in a long time.  
Nikelodean: Gee whiz, that was a hostile review! I entirely deserve it, though, I 100 agree. "Crazy, sadistic woman..." OMG, that made me laugh. Crazy? That's me. Sadistic? Not so much. Woman? Not at all. I'm only 16, thus making this story evidence of some really obscure, terrible mental disorder that should be treated with shock therapy. LOL, and you still want me to keep writing, through all of this? That's loyalty, my friend, thank-you. Next fic I write has to be a comedy, no questions about it.  
Irock708: This can't be the end! I'm not anywhere near close to done yet. And the man in the dream was the guy who raped her...I guess my symbolism leaves much to be desired, but I tried it out. Gotta be able to say I take risks, you know. As for a sequel, it's a possibility, if I leave it off with exactly the right ending...Let me know if you think it's a good idea. It might not seem like there's no way I could leave it with an opening for a sequel, but there is, my friend, there is.  
Sincerely Juicy: "Good chapter..." I see I have you stunned. :P Sorry; I hope this chapter is a little more...well, mabye not more, maybe a little less of something...A little less depressing?  
JacobedRose: Thanks for reading; here's the continuation you hoped for. I hope it's slightly less tragic.  
Regina Halliwell: Here's the next chapter, I hope that was fast enough for you. :P  
Eternalgorithm: LOL - "House should find the guy and rip the shit out of him with his cane." That would be so like him...Definitely planning on doing one or more of the suggestions you listed; things will be okay! Thanks for reading!

Wow, so last chapter got a wild reaction. Some of you thought it was good in a very strange and depressing way, some of you seemed less thrilled. Here's chapter 15, and I hope you enjoy it!

* * *

House remained in his office the entire day. Wilson paced outside the door anxiously for over 15 minutes before deciding to go in. He wasn't sure what he was going to say or how he was going to say it or even if he was going to say anything at all, but he couldn't stand the thought of House being…upset. House got irritated frequently, yes, but very rarely had he been this depressed. It unnerved him.

"House?" Wilson called, clearing his throat. "Can I come in?"

"Yes," came the soft reply.

Wilson obediently pushed the door open. "How's it going?"

"Wilson, I am the worst father imaginable."

That wasn't what he'd been expecting. The House family was just full of surprises. "Don't say that. It's not your fault."

"Yes, it is," House insisted. "I'm a terrible person! I did this to my daughter!"

"You didn't even know she existed. Alma never told you. If she grew up and made some bad decisions, she has no one to blame for herself," Wilson told him, feeling guilty as he said it, but at the same time unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

"It wasn't her fault," House said. "Jimmy, don't tell anyone, but…Julia was raped by some man a few years ago. She was waiting at a bar to drive her step-dad home and the son of a bitch followed her to the car, raped her, and almost killed her."

Wilson's eyes opened widely. "What?" he said, horrified.

"She hasn't told anyone about it," he continued anxiously. "I'm the only one, and I want to keep it a secret, because reliving it now wouldn't do anyone any good, and I don't want her to think I'm spreading her business everywhere."

"Oh my God," Wilson said, sinking into a chair. "That's terrible. House, I have no idea what to say."

"The only way you can go is up," House told him. "Everything's going wrong. It can't get any worse."

"That explains a lot," Wilson said, lost in his own thoughts. "Like why she got so mad at me when I kissed her…"

House glanced at him sharply. "Excuse me?"

"House, you remember, don't you? Last night, in fact, when I was coming out of Julia's room? We were talking, and I got this crazy idea that I was half in love with her, so I kissed her and she started in on me for it." Wilson squinted at him. "She told you, didn't she?"

"She lied to me, is what she did," House said angrily. "Why she wanted to protect you, I haven't the faintest idea, but she told me she kissed _you_."

Wilson felt his mouth go dry. "So…you didn't know about…me?"

"I didn't have a clue," House replied, each word cool and even on his lips. "May I ask you something?"

"Yeah," he mouthed, prepared to meet his doom.

"What the hell were you doing?" House screamed, kicking his desk. Wilson jumped at the noise. "My 19-year-old daughter? Here she is, trying to recover from being attacked once, and now she has to go through it again? For God's sake, Wilson, she has AIDS! I didn't think you were _that_ retarded."

Wilson winced, feeling extremely guilty. "I'm sorry, House. I didn't know any of this. I was just as in the dark as you were…"

"Don't go trying to make it out like we're exactly alike! We are different primarily because I don't go around seducing women half my age!" House bellowed. "Wilson, you have rendered me speechless."

"I wouldn't say that," he muttered irritably.

"Get out of my office, and don't come back," House growled. "I was wrong: things keep getting worse by the second. What's next, man? Am I going to grow another head, or just lose my job?"

"House, you know, you really sound ridiculous," Wilson informed him. "You didn't want anything to do with Julia, if you'll be so kind as to pick your ugly head up out of the sand and remember. 'She's 19, let her deal with it herself.' I don't understand why you –"

Wilson didn't get to continue with his monologue fraught with building aggression because at that precise moment, House's fist miraculously collided with his lip. Wilson's head bounced backward and his hand flew to his face.

"I changed my mind about her," House fumed. "It would be one thing if I thought you had her best interests at heart; then I might have felt bad for punching you. But as it is, all you want to do is get in her pants…"

"I'm bleeding," Wilson observed, surprised.

"These things happen," House said simply, walking to the door. He was sick of this place and the people in it. The only person he could trust was himself. "And you're lucky it happened at a hospital. That's all I have to say to you."

As he slammed the door and retreated, Wilson had to admit to himself that House was right.

* * *

Chase, Cameron, and Foreman sat together in silence long after their shift had ended. Somehow, their combined presence comforted them more than any other surroundings they could have had. They had coffee, as usual, but what was unusual was the fact that none of them had taken a sip in an hour. Surely it was cold and disgusting by now. 

Foreman sighed. "I don't know," he said.

" 'I don't know?'" Chase repeated. "That's all you have to say?"

"Chase…" Cameron chided.

"That's what you're thinking too," Foreman accused. "None of us know what to say or do or think. We're all sitting here like a bunch of idiots waiting for someone to toss something at us to react to."

"Is this going to ensue in a speech encouraging us to play offensively when it comes to the game of life?" Cameron wondered aloud. "Because honestly, I don't feel powerful enough to stand up yet, let alone grab life by the balls and take charge."

If they hadn't all been so emotionally drained, they would have questioned her remarkable choice of vocabulary.

"What are our options?" Foreman asked. "What do we do? We have to think logically about this; it's the only way we'll get through it."

"Since when is it our place to do anything in the first place?" Chase countered. "It's House's problem."

"You'd like to think that," Cameron said.

"What do you mean?" Chase asked her.

"Come on, Chase, denying that Julia didn't touch your heart too would be like pretending the sky isn't blue," she told him. "Yeah, I'd say this is a very big problem, to all of us."

"True, but we shouldn't get too involved," Foreman pointed out. "We're still her doctors."

"So doctors aren't allowed to care about how their patients feel about what's going on with their health?" she asked. "I, for one, think Julia is a great person, and I feel terrible that she has to go through this."

"She brought it on herself; you realize that, don't you?" Chase said.

"Not necessarily," Foreman said. "While likely, there _are_ other possibilities."

"Either way, everyone loses," Cameron reasoned. "I like to think she was in love when it happened."

Foreman and Chase exchanged glances. "Why?" Chase questioned her. "That means it's broken her heart! Come on, Cameron, don't tell me all your years of reading romance novels hasn't taught you that if she loves someone enough to sleep with him, then he turns on her like this, it's the most devastating, depressing thing that could happen to her."

"Apparently _your_ experience with romance novels hasn't taught _you_ that someday she will be able to look back on it with fondness, remembering the bliss that was," she huffed, starting out crossly and ending dreamily.

"Oh, God," Foreman muttered. "Let's consider another option. Let's say she was a loose woman."

"Can't see it," Chase said simply. He really meant, _I won't see it. I don't want to._

"Ditto," Cameron said. "Julia's a one-man kind of woman."

"She's a kid," Foreman corrected her. "But I must admit, she doesn't seem the type to sleep around."

"Next," Chase said quickly, not wanting him to elaborate on the possibility. "Drugs. She's far too intelligent to be a stoner, but on the other hand she _is_ related to House, and many addicts are extremely bright."

"When she came to the hospital, she would have exhibited signs of withdrawal," Foreman pointed out. "Unless she found a way to shoot up here with no one looking."

"Why are we even discussing this?" Cameron asked suddenly. "This is making me nervous. It's like high school all over again."

"You have to admit it's interesting," Chase told her. "And the fact that House would kill us all if he heard us makes it a challenge we just have to take."

She began rummaging through her purse for her keys. "You guys are incredible."

"You started it," Foreman said accusingly. "I don't understand you. You're always coming up with these fascinating topics to argue about, and then you won't let anyone get a word in on it. If this is high school, you're on the debate team and being voted 'Most Likely To Be A Politician.'"

Cameron glared at him. "Screw you."

"Look," Chase interjected, searching his mind for a safe change of subject. "Clearly, we can't sit here on our asses until something happens. We have to find a way to make a statement."

"High school," Cameron said again.

Ignoring her, Foreman asked, "What's our statement?"

"The truth," Chase said decidedly.

"And the truth is…?" Cameron asked, motioning for him to go on.

He hesitated. "That we care about the welfare and emotional satisfaction of all parties involved, and that we really want to know how it happened," he decided.

"So what are you suggesting?" Foreman asked. "Should we put on dresses again and go to her house and then tell her we need to know how she contracted AIDS so we can treat her more effectively?"

"Number one, that's high school again, but I'm willing to go along with the dress thing again because it was cute," Cameron said. "Number two, that's a lie, and it's completely unethical and illegal. Number three, I thought you said she didn't want to be treated."

"What?" Chase said suddenly, snapping to attention.

"She just wants to die," Foreman told him sadly. "She says she doesn't want to be in pain, but she doesn't want to prolong the process for her parents' sake."

"I bet House really went for that," he said sarcastically.

"He hasn't said no yet, and she already went and told him," Cameron said. "I have the sneaking suspicion he's allowing it."

"There's nothing he can do," Foreman said. "She's legally and adult and has her rights."

"That sucks," Cameron said unhappily. "There's no way in hell there's going to be a happy ending."

"This isn't a Disney movie," Chase agreed helplessly. "This is more of a Shakespearean tragedy. Everyone dies at the end. It doesn't matter."

"The end doesn't matter, no," she mused. "But the journey there does, and it has to be the best it can be. We have to make an effort, however small, to put some joy back into the House family's lives." She lifted her coffee cup. "To Julia and House."

Chase and Foreman stared at her.

"How come it was cool when Foreman did it?" she complained, slamming her cup down on the table.

"It's a nice idea, Cam, but it's not going to happen," Chase said, yawning. He glanced at his watch. "I'm going to go home and get some sleep. Maybe things will look better in the morning."

"Good idea, Chase," Foreman told him as he stood up. "Cameron, if you know what's good for you, you'll go home too. There's nothing more you can do. At least not tonight."

They headed for the parking lot, trusting that she would do the womanly tasks of cleaning up their mess on the table. Chase had spilled the milk and sugar, as usual, and Foreman had screwed up in the process of making the first pot of coffee and gotten coffee grinds everywhere.

Cameron didn't see these things, however. She only saw that there was more she could do, and that she was going to do it. "I'll go home tonight," she decided softly. "A good night's sleep sounds like the best option right now, but there's nothing stopping me tomorrow." She left too, not looking back for a second at the chaos that was the lounge.

* * *

Wilson threw a bloody tissue at the trash can and missed. "Goddamn it," he muttered as he stood up to throw it away. "I can't do anything right. I suck. God has forsaken me and left me to die…" 

"House? Is that you?" said a voice. Cuddy opened the door and stepped into the room. "Oh, Dr. Wilson. Where's House?"

"He left," Wilson said.

"Why is your lip bleeding?" she asked.

"Long story," he tried. He knew from the look on her face that she wasn't buying it, so he sighed and told her, "House and I got into a fight, and he punched me."

"Oh my God," she said. "That's it; he's gone too far. I can't have a madman on my hands; he's got to learn he can't cope with his issues through violence –"

"It was my fault," Wilson said quickly. "Really, it was, Dr. Cuddy. I said something to him that was very rude, and in his state of grief he saw no other way to act. Honestly, don't penalize him for it. I started the whole thing."

"As true as that may be, Dr. House needs to learn to control himself. I've been looking for an excuse to do this for a long time, Dr. Wilson; don't try and talk me out of it."

"Please don't fire him!" Wilson begged.

"I'm not going to fire him," Dr. Cuddy said, sounding surprised. "Why would I do something foolish like that? I'm just going to suspend him for a few days, let him know what's what. Don't worry; I won't tell him why. It's not like he's going to come after you with an axe." She grinned at him and walked away.

"You'd be surprised," Wilson muttered once she was out of earshot. "And he doesn't need an axe. Hell, with that fist, he doesn't even need the cane."

Knowing there was no way to avoid going home tonight, he forlornly walked out to his car. He drove 15 miles below the speed limit, forgetting the fact he could be ticketed for doing so. Wilson pulled into his garage, took the keys from the ignition, and went inside.

Julie, his wife, was sitting on the couch flipping through channels on the television. When she saw him, she turned it off and said, "Hey, Jimmy."

"Julie," he said, nodding. He sniffed the air. "You had meatloaf for dinner."

"There's some in the fridge," she said.

"I'll heat it up." Wilson moved for the kitchen.

Julie stopped him. "I'll do it. You look like you've had a tough day."

Wilson gulped. _She knows. The woman has some sort of sixth sense that tells her when I've been unfaithful._

"Honey," she said, pausing as she realized she hadn't called him that in a very long time, "I'm curious. I heard you pull into the garage last night, but you didn't come in. Why?"

"I, uhhh," he sputtered. "I had had a really hard day at work and I just wanted to be alone."

"Implying that I wouldn't give your space," she assessed, putting his plate in the microwave and slamming the door shut. "Perfect. Just what I'd expected."

"I didn't say that," Wilson said. "I just…forget it, okay? I don't want to fight with you. Today hasn't been so great either."

"Why don't you tell me about it?" Julie asked as she set his plate in front of him.

"We diagnosed a 19-year-old girl with AIDS," he said, sounding mildly unhappy, feeling miserable. "House got his panties in a bunch over some joke I made and now we're not speaking, and…"

"And what?"

He forced himself to smile. "And that's it. I know it sounds petty."

"Not at all," Julie said. "That's terrible, the girl with AIDS. I can't imagine how her family must feel. And I know you and House are close…"

"Jesus, Julie, you talk like I'm in kindergarten or something," Wilson said irritably, spearing his next forkful of meatloaf with gleeful delight. It looked to Julie like he was imagining it was her being skewered; in all reality, he was just ravenous for the meal.

She narrowed her eyes. "Well, excuse me for trying to be a better wife. I just don't know what you want from me, Jimmy. I try being understanding, I try giving you your space, I try acting younger and cooler and all that shit, and nothing is ever good enough. You know? Forget I ever said anything if it irritates you that much."

Wilson knew he should apologize, but honestly, he hadn't been listening too closely because he was so absorbed in his meal. It was so damn _delicious_. He'd forgotten Julie could cook like nobody's business. He looked around his house and realized that not only could she cook well enough to put the toughest food critic on their knees begging for another bite, but she made Martha Stewart look like an amateur. When had his house suddenly come together like this and looked like something resembling…a home?

"This is delicious," he commented, his mouth full. "Needs something, though."

Julie blinked, unable to grasp the chance in topic for a second. "Oh. Ketchup, maybe?" she asked, grinning. She pulled a bottle from the refrigerator. "Here."

"Thanks," he said, dumping a mountain-sized heap onto his meatloaf, careful not to get any onto the mashed potatoes next to it. "So…how was your day?"

"I…bought new cushions for the sofa," she told him, sounding awed that he had inquired. "And I got a great deal on paint at the Home Depot, so maybe this weekend I'll start painting the dining room like I wanted to. And…" She searched her mind, then stopped. "Why do you ask?"

"Just curious," he said. " 'Excuse me for trying to be a better husband.'"

Julie laughed at his poor but cute mimicry. "Sorry. Look, I'm kind of tired, so I'm going to go up to bed, okay?"

"Okay," he replied, trying not to let the food fly out of his mouth. He figured Julie might let him get away with being slightly rude like that as long as he didn't get any ABC meatloaf onto her freshly mopped floor. "Goodnight, Julie."

"Goodnight, Jimmy," she said. She hesitated, then kissed him gently on the forehead, and walked up the stairs to their bedroom.

Wilson grinned boyishly. _Julie gave me a kiss!_ he sang in his mind. Dare he say it, things had actually gone remarkably well for them that evening. They had been civil and polite and almost friendly to each other with a minimum of squabbling. Sure, they couldn't stand up to newlyweds who could boast non-stop conversation and action in bed all night long, but it was still a far cry from where they'd been a few months earlier. Who knew where they'd be if they gave it even more time?

_She's not so bad_, he thought to himself. _Maybe I should rethink calling her "The Beast."_

Wilson rinsed off his plate and went up to brush his teeth. He looked at himself in the mirror and winced. "You are getting older," he said softly. "And uglier by the second."

"Who are you talking to?" Julie called.

"Just myself," he replied as he flicked off the light and climbed into bed. "Say, when did we decide we were going to paint the dining room."

"We didn't; I did." He could sense her smiling in the dark. "How do you feel about taking up the carpet in there? I know we have hardwood floors underneath it, and that goes with my motif a bit better."

He shrugged, even though she couldn't see him. "I feel like you know better than I do about decorating. I feel like you're doing a really wonderful job at keeping this house looking spectacular. And above all else, I feel very, very sorry but I am so tired and do not have the mental capability in my present state of being to converse on matters of interior decoration. Maybe in the morning?"

Her smile tightened but didn't fade; he knew it with a husband's certainty. "That's fine," she said. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

* * *

Questions, comments, or concerns? I don't have a 1-800 number, but your voice can still be heard! If I may direct your attention to the little button in the corner that says "Go" with a drop-down list next to it? Make sure you are on "Submit Review," click the pretty blue button, and let your fingers do the talking! (Holy cow, that was lame...) Thanks for reading! Cara/house-of-insanity 


	16. In A Pickle

Thanks for all the reviews! I'm not going to respond individually to everyone (sorry!) but I will address some issues that have been brought up or just on my mind.

1) First and foremost, it has been brought to my attention that I have been getting a little bit too free with my language. My sincere apologies to anyone I've offended! I'm definitely going to try to keep my use of obscenities and the Lord's name at a minimum in future chapters and stories. If this has been an issue with you, just include a hearty "aye!" in your next review. I want to be able to remember this so I don't make the same mistake again! Cursing is a form of rebellion for me, a way of saying, "I'm all grown up, and I can talk however I want!" but I realize that using only these words is nothing but a testament to immaturity and ignorance in regards to expressing oneself with the English language. Again, I am very sorry; it would be dishonest of me to say I'm going to bring it to a complete stop, but I will definitely keep it at a minimum. If it makes you feel any better, I don't actually _talk_ this way unless I'm in the middle of experiencing some very extreme emotions and only in certain company; I just write it. (I'm not sure why that would make you feel any better, but…) And if you think this is bad, you should see my journal. :P

2) I've upped the rating on this fic to mature because there are some rather adult themes in here and I want all readers to be forewarned. Not that I'm planning on adding any more; this is more for me and my conscience, which has been going on and on and on lately. Not that I blame it; summer has been a great opportunity for me to get into lots of mischief (legal mischief, of course), and usually I behave so well my parents get aggravated at me for being so boring. :P

3) I've heard from a few people that some of the characters are not seeming like themselves. Sorry for the inconsistencies; not to offer excuses, things have just been crazy lately. I'll try to get things right in the coming chapters, but it might take a little more time...maybe I'll actually have to start putting a day or two between updates...:P Thanks for mentioning these things to me; it makes writing an entertaining and delightful challenge to take up each and every day.

4) Of course, I must thank you all for taking the time to read and let me know what's on your mind. I hope you're enjoying this as much as I am and that chapter 16 is to your liking. Enough from me; onto the story!

* * *

House sluggishly slapped at his alarm clock until it stopped droning at him incessantly. He glared at it as it flashed the time at him tauntingly, as if it was saying, "You have to get up! Look at how early it is!" 

"Here we go again," he muttered, burying his face in his pillow. It couldn't keep him from suddenly feeling wide awake, though, and he knew he'd never fall asleep again, not until he got home from work that night. Surprisingly, last night hadn't been sleepless. _Au contraire_, he'd gone to bed early and had fallen asleep the second he flicked out the lights. It amazed him, because generally when he had a lot on his mind he would sit awake for hours on end, drinking and thinking until he ran out of the resources for either activity; they went hand in hand for him.

He showered and dressed and dragged himself into the kitchen for some breakfast. He studied the contents of his cupboards and refrigerator and rolled his eyes. In a last effort to prove to himself that he wasn't a worthless bum, he checked his pantry for anything. He would have settled for popcorn kernels and a bag of stale potato chips. Nothing.

House slammed the pantry door shut, reaching what felt like an all-time low. His daughter was dying, his best friend was a womanizing scum that hated him, and he didn't have any suitable breakfast foods. Or lunch foods, or dinner foods, or foods that no one likes but eats anyway for stupid reasons like "It was on sale" or "It's supposed to be good for you." He wondered suddenly what he'd been living on for all this time. He checked the expiration date on an unopened bottle of pickles. "March 2002," he read aloud. "Perfect." He set it back on the shelf, vowing that once he felt better he'd get his apartment back in shape. No more of this insipid, self-harming behavior! The first step to recovery was admitting you had a problem, and House was appropriately pleased with himself for doing so.

The phone rang, and it made him jump. "Strange sound," he commented. "That's something you don't hear everyday." House picked it up and said, "Hello, House residence." He found that mildly amusing.

"Which House am I speaking to?" Cuddy asked. "As if there's more than one." He sensed her blushing over the phone. "Ummm…I mean, you know, living there."

"Your attempts at humor leave much to be desired," House told her dryly. "I found that about as entertaining as I find that redneck man, Jeff Foxworthy. Why are you calling me at home, if I may be so bold as to inquire?"

"I'm suspending you from work," she said in a rush. "Don't come in for three days."

"What?" he said disbelievingly. "You're suspending me? For what?"

"Don't think of it as a suspension," Cuddy pleaded. "Think of it as me giving you a much-needed vacation."

"You should know by now that you don't tend to provoke feelings of gratefulness and warmth," House muttered. "But as much as I hate to admit it, you're right."

He heard her sigh with relief. "Thank God," she said. "I was afraid you might come after me and beat the crap out of me like you did to Wilson."

House was on his feet, feeling enraged all over again. "How did you find out about Wilson?" he demanded.

He listened to the silence as he felt a state of panic rush over his boss. "I…guessed?" she tried. "Ummm…oh boy, my beeper's going off; we'll have to talk about this later."

"Cuddy, don't hang up," he warned her.

"Bye, Dr. House," she said hurriedly. "Enjoy your vacation."

She slammed down the phone, and House was left alone with his thoughts once again. _He told! That mentally challenged, brainless, childlike idiot went and complained to Cuddy! _He paused in his mind and frowned. It didn't sound like Wilson to do such a thing. If she asked, that would be one thing, but… "Oh, no," he exclaimed out loud. "I must have left a mark or a bruise or something. Something that can be photographed! If he's mad enough at me, he'll probably sue me for everything I'm worth." He thought about the pickles and grinned in spite of himself. _Good luck with that, Jimmy. Try squeezing financial compensation out of a man that's going to go broke from restocking his entire kitchen before he evens hires a lawyer._

House turned back to the pantry, willing himself to open the door. But he couldn't do it. He couldn't face it, not in the state he was in. Hungry and alone.

He sighed. House knew exactly what he needed: a date. A breakfast date.

"Who do I know that would be willing to eat breakfast with me?" House asked himself aloud. He scrunched his eyes shut and considered everyone he knew. Wilson was out of the question, Julia surely needed time to herself and anyways, she was probably taking care of her mother in the wake of yet another alcohol binge, and Chase and Foreman certainly weren't what he considered his pals. His breath quickened as tried to avoid the inevitable name, attempting to come up with any other person he could possibly think of. At last, he had to admit defeat.

House picked up the phone, and, knowing he was doomed and that he would regret this forever, dialed Alison Cameron's number.

"Hello?" she answered sleepily but nevertheless politely.

"Morning, Cameron," he said. "Guess who?"

"House?"

"Very good. Who else would be calling you at six o'clock in the morning?"

He could sense her blinking, sitting up slowly in bed as she fought the urge to fall back asleep. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"Nothing's wrong, per se," House told her. "I was just sitting here in my apartment, thinking, 'I'll bet Cameron's still asleep. She's going to be late for work, and we can't have that. She'll wake up, realize the time, and rush through her morning routine, probably forgetting the most important meal of the day.' And you know I can't just sit by and let these things happen, Cameron, because I'm a doctor and therefore concerned with everyone's welfare. And then I thought to myself, 'Well, Greg, out of the goodness of your heart, why don't you take her out to breakfast?' And I couldn't think of a single reason why I shouldn't, so I gave you a call. What do you say?"

She was silent for a moment, considering. Then, slowly: "I think you overdid the Vicodin a little bit. It's one pill every four to six _hours_, dummy, not _minutes_."

House laughed, almost hysterically. He had taught her well. "I assure you, I have read the prescription a thousand times over, Dr. Cameron. But you haven't answered my question."

Cameron was going to say no. He knew it with certainty. It had been a bad idea to call her; he suddenly wished Cuddy had just fired him and gotten it over with. Once she found out, she would do it anyway, because only an idiot calls a woman he himself has scorned at six o'clock in the morning and asks her to go to breakfast with him. Certainly Cuddy didn't want an idiot on her staff. Then again, she kept several idiots around (namely Wilson), and she never fired them.

"Well," she replied, "as you have pointed out, I'm going to be late anyway. I suppose breakfast wouldn't hurt."

He felt his stomach drop suddenly. _She said yes. Cameron said yes._ And then he glanced down at the floor, because it just felt like the natural thing to do, and noticed a huge stain on the pants he had just put on. He couldn't go out to breakfast with Alison Cameron, not like this. He glanced at his hamper; it was full. "I've changed my mind," he said, and hung up.

Alison Cameron sat in bed ten miles away, staring at the phone in disbelief. "Unbelievable," she said, and she dialed the number she had memorized but never called.

House picked up the phone slowly. "Hello?"

"Don't you dare hang up on me," she demanded angrily. "I don't understand you. First you say you want company, and then you hang up on me? What's the deal?"

"If you'll be so kind as to remember," he requested, "I called you because I wanted to do something for you out of the goodness of my heart."

"I wasn't aware you had a heart," Cameron muttered.

"But then I looked at my clock and realized you still have time if you get up now, hurry through your shower, and eat on the run," House said. "So therefore, this conversation is pointless."

"Stop it!" she said. "You're insane. If you want to have breakfast, just say so. There aren't many people I would come in late for work for, so you should feel privileged. If you want to take advantage of this, you'd better tell me now, because I'm only giving you an hour of my scheduled time."

House was amazed at this confession. Cameron would come to work late for him?

"Not to mention the fact that you're scheduled today too," Cameron continued.

"Not anymore," House informed her coolly, not particularly enjoying the reminder. "Cuddy is giving me a few days off."

A smile spread across Cameron's face. _House is getting a few days off, and he feels like spending an hour out of them with _me. "I see," she said slowly. "Well, what's it gonna be? Yes or no?"

It took House a moment to realize she hadn't asked him why he had time off. He'd always thought Cameron would be the nosy type, unashamed to get into business she had no right to come near, but he guessed not after this. He prepared himself to say yes and opened his mouth when his cell phone rang.

"Hold on, Cameron, my cell phone's ringing," he told her as he flipped it open. He heard her sigh and flop back onto her pillow. "Hello?"

"Dad," Julia said, and he could tell that she was crying. Yet again. "Mom's asleep and I can't get her to wake up."

He started pacing without even realizing it. "What? She's not waking up?"

"Yeah," she sobbed. "She drank a lot last night, and I threw away as much as I could without her seeing me, but I guess she had enough, and I'm doing everything I can, and she's just not doing anything…"

"Is she breathing?"

"Well, yeah, but she's never done this before," Julia told him tearfully. "What should I do? Should I call an ambulance or is there something I can do here?"

"Julia, just stay right where you are," he commanded her firmly. "I'm going to come over there and get both of you, okay? Just stay with her and keep your eye on her. Don't go anywhere. I'm coming."

"Okay," Julia said. "Hurry, please."

"I'll see you in ten minutes," House said. "Okay? Good-bye." He hung up and got back on with Cameron. "Cameron, I've got to go, alright?"

"What now?" she asked, infuriated. "Did your first choice for breakfast call back and say they could make it and now you don't need me?"

"That was Julia, and she's having trouble with Alma," House said. "Believe me, don't believe me, do whatever you want. But I have to go over there and see what's going on."

Cameron chose to believe him. "Need any help?" she asked.

House opened his mouth to say no, but stopped. Who knew what was going on? He needed all the help he could get. "Yeah, I might need you," he replied. He gave her the address and asked her to hurry.

Within minutes, House was out the door on his way to his daughter's house, not knowing what he'd find and how he would deal with it. Cameron was five minutes behind him, numb with the certainty that she was getting herself into something that she could never turn back from.

* * *

This one's a bit shorter than I expected, and probably not as good as it should be; sorry, folks! I started driver's ed today, I'm feeling kind of sick, and tomorrow I'll be gone all day: driving, doctor's, then I have to go hang out with my friends. Public relations are so difficult. :P JK, but by Wednesday, I might be able to get another chapter up. Hope this was okay; as always, I'm waiting in anticipation for any reviews you've got for me! Thanks for reading! Cara/house-of-insanity 


	17. Another Life In Peril

Well, I took the rating down to T again, because I realized (after about two years of fan-fiction, mind you) that when you look up stories, those rated M don't show up unless you select it on the menu on top of the page! I'm so computer-illiterate, I know. Laugh if you will, but don't make fun of me. :P Anways, I know some of you don't have me on story alert, so this is for you! (More for me, actually, because I live on your reviews some days. :P) So I'm pushing the T-rating a little bit, but that's okay.

Thanks for all the reviews, everyone, they keep me going! I hope you enjoy Chapter 17!

* * *

House knocked on the door, more to let Julia know he was coming in than anything else. He turned the knob and stomped into the house. "Julia!" he yelled. "Where are you?" 

"We're up here," she called anxiously.

House mentally cursed Alma for having a house with steps and begrudgingly made his way up them. He walked into the bedroom, his steps loud and quick. "What have we got here?" he asked as he stared at Alma. She was laying on the bed, her eyes closed, not conscious.

"She's not waking up," Julia said tearfully. "What's wrong with her? Is it the alcohol? Did she finally just have too much?"

"She wouldn't be breathing if she'd reached her limit, that much I can tell you," House assessed, studying Alma. "You can't wake her up?"

"Nothing I do is helping," she said. "Cold water, shaking her – I've tried everything."

"Interesting," House commented, standing back, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

"No, it's really not," Julia said angrily, wiping her eyes. "Mom might be a specimen to you, but you might be kind enough to talk about her like an actual human being with me around. She's a real person to me, you know."

"You might be kind enough to let me do my job the way I'm used to it," House growled. He didn't mean to be rude to her; he just worked better objectively. In truth, he wasn't sure what would happen if he let his emotions in on his career, but he wasn't about to find out. Not now, not with so much at stake. "Dr. Cameron is coming by soon. She'll make sure you're okay here while I take your mother to the hospital."

"Well, I've got to come with you," Julia protested. "She's my mom."

"You've had quite enough of hospitals," House told her. "Help me take her downstairs. Between the two of us, it should only take about an hour."

Julia bent to lift up her mother's shoulders, struggling under her weight and her own weakness. "I hope Dr. Cameron gets here sooner than later. We might be doing more harm than good, moving her around like this."

"Don't worry about it," House said, easing the tension on his leg as he took a step down the staircase. "When the only thing separating you from death is a slow but steady heartbeat, you can't go much further down."

Ten minutes and a few bruises later, House and Julia had Alma safely down the stairs. The door was going to be the next big hurdle, but they figured they might as well take it once step at a time and make it across the foyer first.

Of course, Dr. Cameron came in at that precise moment.

"What's up?" she asked, eyeing Alma. "Is she okay?"

House tried to talk in a way that wouldn't upset Julia, an understandably daunting task, considering all the things that must have been running through the poor girl's mind. "She isn't waking up. Her breathing is considerably slower than what would be considered normal for a woman with her medical history. I think we should take her to the hospital and have her looked at."

Cameron nodded. "What do you want me to do?" she asked him.

"Take Julia's place and help me get her out to my car. I'll drive Alma to the hospital, and you can follow me with her," House requested. "Julia, could you hold the door open for us?"

She nodded slowly and opened it as House and Cameron carried Alma out to the car. It would have been almost funny had it not been for the severity of the situation. Cameron's addition to the force made the task easier, and as they struggled with her to the car, House was able to regain his senses and curse himself for not just calling an ambulance. He would feel like an idiot, walking into the hospital like this.

They propped Alma up in House's front seat and made sure she was still breathing. She was, very slowly. She was very pale, and House was extremely worried for her. Julia didn't know him well enough to be able to tell, but Cameron saw at once the telltale signs that House was filled with dread – the pursed lips, awkward silence, and accentuated lines in his face all told her that he wasn't feeling invincible today. She licked her own lips, trying to keep it together for Julia. Cameron couldn't help feeling like everything was hopeless. To her, Gregory House represented strength and security and stability, all the things she wanted most in life but always seemed to elude her. When those traits were absent or diminished in the faintest, the world felt like it was collapsing.

"See you there," House said as he got behind the wheel and drove away.

Cameron and Julia were left alone, not sure how they felt about being forced into this situation. Julia broke the ice by saying softly, "Be honest with me, Dr. Cameron. Who's going to die first, my mom or me?"

Alison Cameron shook her head. "I don't know," she whispered, talking more to herself than Julia. "If I had to place my bet on anyone, I'd say House would go first."

"He's not sick!" Julia exclaimed. "Or is he? Cameron, is my dad sick too?"

Cameron regarded her with grave eyes. "Physically, he's fine. But I don't know how he is mentally. He could be dying in his mind, and we'd never be able to tell until it was too late." She felt cruel for saying it, but honesty was a vice of hers.

"I did it, didn't I?" Julia asked, sinking down on her front porch. "This all started with me. Dr. Cameron, I screwed his life up so badly, and I wish I could take it all back."

Cameron sat down beside her and put an arm around her, feeling a strange maternal instinct come over her for a girl that couldn't have been any more than ten years younger than she was. It was the most extraordinary sensation she'd ever felt, pushing her out of her comfort zone, but somehow it felt so right to be taking care of another human being. "Never, ever wish that," Cameron said softly. "You might not see it, but you're saving his life. You know, the two most vital organs in your body are your brain and your heart. We always knew he had a brain. Dr. House is a medical genius, a very brilliant man. But he's a little bit stupid when it comes to emotions. For a long time, we had been convinced that he didn't have a heart. But you've proven he does. Julia, the rest will come in time. He'll be okay. I promise."

Julia smiled through the cheerless beads of water dripping down her face, and her head dropped onto Cameron's shoulder. Suddenly her thoughts had become to heavy for her to carry alone. She hadn't been sure if someone would help her bear them, if she would be lucky enough to find someone who would. But she had Cameron, who no longer seemed like an impersonal, robotic doctor with a pretty face and no substance behind it. _Alison Cameron_, Julia thought with some surprise, _is my friend._

* * *

House drove along at ten miles over the speed limit, not particularly relishing the thought of getting caught speeding, but not wanting to go to slowly either. Between his cane and the temporary insanity he was sure was coming over him, he felt he could take an officer of the law in case they tried to stop him. After all, Dr. House had a higher calling than anyone else they might pull over. He was trying to save a life. 

"Alma," he said sharply, then stopped for a moment as he realized what he was getting into: a conversation with the near dead. She couldn't even hear him. What was the point?

_Internal cleansing_, House thought smugly. _That's my motive. No reason to keep it all bottled up inside when I've got a perfectly willing listener right beside me and ten minutes of road ahead of me._

"Alma, are you in there?" he asked, as if to confirm that she was alive. Of course, he received no answer, but the faint rise and fall of her chest was good enough for him. To assume normally made an ass out of you and me, but he wasn't thinking that way now. "I know I haven't been particularly civil to you in recent history. You must know that some of it you deserve, but I guess maybe I'm partly to blame. I'm not sorry, you understand, but I want you realize not all of it is your fault. I guess it can be stressful on you sometimes, being an alcoholic mother of one and married to a lunatic.

"Why'd you do it?" House asked. "Obviously you're not psychic, but how could you have been so stupid?" He felt like a real jerk now, but whatever, she wasn't really listening. "I'll bet he seemed perfect, didn't he? Like he couldn't hurt a fly. I remember back in high school; you used to get As in everything. People thought you were smart, that you'd make a way for yourself in the world, right? They were wrong. If you want to survive out here, where the real people live, you've got to learn not to trust anyone, because what you see isn't what you get. Maybe you weren't bargaining for an abusive psychopath, but that's what you got, and you have no one to blame but yourself.

"Julia is dying because of him, did you know that? While you were at home swimming in the vodka, she was getting attacked by some man at Len's favorite hang-out. He brought her there, you know. It's their fault as much as it is yours. How could you have been so irresponsible?"

House rolled through a stop sign and cursed. Just like a woman to get him in such a rage he couldn't even drive right. "It's a little too late for you to fix everything, but you can fix yourself. That's all you can handle right now, and that's okay. For some inexplicable reason, Julia loves you fiercely. She doesn't want you to die, Alma. She wants you with her, because watching you die would be the worst thing she could ever experience. All the effort she's put into taking care of you when you didn't know right from left – and you've going to waste it? When…" House hesitated, not sure if that was exactly the right word. _When in doubt, be positive. Seems to work for cheerleaders. _"When we know what's wrong with you, and when we fix it, you've got to carry yourself the rest of the way. The strength you've saved from having someone else push you through life should be enough to dig you out of this hole."

He thought about everything he'd said, and winced. His words really stung; he could see that clearly. He always had. But having someone defenseless against him really made the reality come alive. He wondered if anyone would ever have the nerve to put him in his place. Probably not, not like he needed it. It was then that House realized why he felt like his life was ending: he had scared off the true meaning of life. Enjoying the people you've been blessed to have around you was the most important thing to everyone, whether they believed it to be true for themselves or not. House knew somewhere in his mind that other people made everything inside of him leap with delight, but somehow they brought out the worst in him, the antithesis to what he was feeling. He pushed away what was there to help him more than anything else.

House was reminded of a baby he'd seen once in the ICU. He couldn't remember whatit was in for, but it was serious and required extensive surgery. The baby's dad was there 24 hours a day, standing over him, attending to his every need. He'd never seen love like he had in that man's eyes, and that filled him with terror every time he caught sight of it. How can you let yourself love something that losing is almost inevitable? Anyway, the father had been standing over the boy's bed after a painful procedure had been done, and the baby was screaming so loudly you couldn't hear yourself think. House dimly remembered putting his hands over his ears and watching the man, at the time wondering how strong a bond genetics made that he could love something that made that much noise. The image of the man holding his son stuck in his mind…

The baby screamed and kicked at him, wanting to be let go of. It hurt. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt, and he didn't like being held at all, and he didn't understand why anyone would want to cause him so much pain…

The father held him tighter, knowing the boy was in pain and trying to take some of the burden off of him. In any case, he didn't want him to be alone. He wanted him to know the mental anguish of watching his son in so much agony had to be harder than experiencing it himself...

This was the only possible analogy he could come up with to explain why he had to thwart anyone's attempts to care about him. People hurt you, sometimes intentionally, sometimes not. When others came along to pick up the pieces,he had to kick at them and scream at them to lethim go. And more than anything in the world, that hurt them, because they wanted to bear the suffering with him and they couldn't make him see it. House didn't know how he could have been so blind.

House was nearing the hospital, but there was more he had to say. "Alma, I'm going to try to be better too. I want you to know that. While I'm telling you to never let your guard down with people, I never let mine up. There's a fine line somewhere in there that will keep us from getting hurt too often. Maybe we can find it, Alma, learn to straddle the line.I think we can."

* * *

Alma was moved into the ICU, where it was determined thather coma had been induced by cirrhosis of the liver. Julia and Cameron were informed of the diagnosis the second they arrived. The doctors tried to be hopeful, but it was clear that a cure was going to be next to impossible to come by. She needed a new liver. 

Julia sat by her mother's side all night as they waited for any sign that maybe, just maybe, she might live. She held her hand, only moving away to tell doctors that there was no visible change in her condition. A few times, Julia had tried to talk to her, but only succeeded in saying that she loved her before she burst into a fresh wave of tears. Finally, she gave up. The fact that even though her mother was heading towards death even faster than she herself was couldn't convince her to say what she needed to made her miserable. She wouldn't make herself cry, not evenfor her own mother's sake.

A knock came at the door around eleven o'clock that night. Julia stirred, angry with herself for falling asleep, and went to open it. "Dr. Cuddy," she said, surprised the woman was still at work. "Hello."

"Julia, I think I've found it," she said excitedly. "I found a liver for your mother. It should be here in approximately five hours. I believe that surgery at this point will be very risky, with her in the shape she's in, but if she makes it through alright, then maybe she'll survive."

Julia dropped to her knees, relief washing over her, assuring her it was okay to be tired and fallen because help was on the way. "Thank-you, Jesus!" she screamed, truly convinced that maybe, just maybe, Someone up there liked her. She'd never been particularly spiritual, but she was willing toplay the religion card if it meant her mother would get a second chance. "Oh my God, thank-you so much!"

Dr. Cuddy patted her awkwardly on the head, her face a mixture of warmth, kindness, and strangely, sadness. It was obvious that Julia was sure that they were out of the woods, when in fact, this was just the beginning. "I'm going to go home now and get some sleep, but I promise I'll be in tomorrow to see how things are going."

"Thank-you, Dr. Cuddy," Julia sobbed, feeling stupid for crying in the face of such hopeful news. "Where's my dad? Does he know?"

"Dr. House is getting some much-needed rest in his office. He's here, but he's exhausted," Cuddy said. "He doesn't know yet, but he'll probably come by to see you soon."

"Okay," Julia said, nodding. She blinked hard. "Thanks again, really. You don't know what you're doing for us."

Cuddy smiled sympathetically and closed the door.

Julia turned back to her mother and said, "Did you hear that, Mom? They found you a liver. I know you were probably hoping for a new car or something cool like that, but isn't this just as nice? Better, even!" She watched her mother's face, then sighed. No sign of life flickered on Alma's almost white face. "I know it's hard, Mom. I know. But you've got to hang on for just a few more hours. They'll take it from there, but please keep going." Julia felt selfish for asking her to keep breathing when it pained her so much, but she reminded herself it was her mother's life she was fighting for. She murmured encouragement to her all night long, not stopping until the next morning when they came to prep her for surgery.

That was when Julia realized that everything was out of her hands. 19 years of reversed parenting had come to this, and she could only hope that she'd done everything right.

* * *

Finally, this chapter is complete! Sorry, ya'all, like I said, between attempting to learn to drive (at least I haven't destroyed anything yet - always good news) and getting the opportunity to visit my own doctor (who is nowhere as cool as Dr. House, being female and not at all sarcastic or witty), everything is insane around here. I can't imagine how I'd deal with it if I had any real hobbies that required any real effort on my part. :P Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. If I messed up any of my facts, let me know, and I'll see what I can do. Reviews are still some of my favorite things, along with snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes and girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes, so if you've got anything to say, I'd love to hear it! Chapter 18 (wow!) up soon! 


	18. The Longest Wait Of Her Life

Thanks for the reviews, ya'all! I never tire of hearing what you have to say!

**Mollisk:** Haha, wow, I could kind of tell you weren't so excited about the story in the beginning, but I can't tell you how cool it is that I've "won you over," so to speak. I'm happy to hear it! Also, yes, I figured that was probably true about Alma being denied a liver, but I can't let _her_ die too; that would be a little too angsty, even for my taste. Thanks for reading!

**Irock708:** I need all the luck I can get for the driving lessons; thanks! Here's my update, I hope you enjoy it.

**Amber Chase:** I'm so jealous, you live on a farm! I live in the suburbs, the worst of both worlds, you know. Driving is…terrifying, haha! Anyways, thanks for reading and reviewing, glad you liked it!

**Nikelodean: **Glad you've enjoyed the past few chapters, and really, no problem about the language thing! I know I curse too much; it's better that I break the habit sooner than later, right? Slowly but surely, I'm getting there. Thanks for reading!

**Reitashnehelena:** Thanks for stopping by, I'm glad you enjoyed it! Haha, wow, I never thought I could write something that would get people to read the second I updated! Maybe if they were bored to tears and had nothing else to do, but certainly not this. Thanks for telling me; that just made my day!

**Regina Halliwell:** Haha, gotta do the whole cliffhanger thing to keep you guessing and coming back for more. Hope you enjoy, and thanks for reading!

**Queen of Blank:** Wow, I'm glad you're so excited about the story you come as soon as you know! That just warms my heart…but you'd better tell me I need to step up my game a little bit, or my head's gonna get too bit for my own good, haha! Thanks for the "good luck" in regards to driving; I need all the help I can get!

Okay, here's chapter 18, and I hope you love it.

And since I haven't been faithful in disclaiming, here's an update on that: **I DON'T OWN "HOUSE, M.D." I BET YOU DIDN'T KNOW THAT, DID YOU?**

Now you know. Enjoy!

* * *

Julia waited outside the OR, seated in what looked like a very uncomfortable position. She was ready to spring at any moment, the second she saw someone who looked like they knew something. The liver had arrived, they had come to her mother's room, and almost not prepped her for surgery. "She's too weak," they said. "She'll never survive."

"And she has a better chance at living again if she stays like this?" she had shot back, cranky from no sleep, being sick, and worrying for her mother. "My mother needs that liver. I promise you, she will make everyday she lives with it a treasure that everyone can benefit from. Please do this surgery!"

The surgeons had conceded reluctantly.

She jiggled her leg anxiously. _They've been in there for over an hour. The fact that I haven't heard any unusual noises, screams and loud beeping and things like that – that must be a good sign. But it's taking so long! Over an hour, several hours to go before this is over…_

Wilson watched her from afar, today distracted from his job. No, House wasn't telling him anything – he had to depend on rumors to get the information he needed, wheedling it down into little grains of truth that he had to assemble again for the big picture. It was a very long-winded process, but worth going through.

He really wanted to speak to her, but she probably wouldn't like that too much. Things had gotten too complicated – none of it his or her fault. It wasn't just the kiss – that could have been resolved days ago, practically. But throw in a fatal disease, a buried crime, an estranged father, and a sick mother, and what did you get? A problem. A huge, ugly, sickening, grotesque, in-your-face, here-to-stay problem. It wouldn't go away with a jovial, "Hey, sorry about the other night!" It would take a lot more than that to gain back what they had before. He just wasn't sure what.

Chase was watching her from the opposite side of the room, lost in his own thoughts, barely noticing Wilson. He wasn't stupid; the village idiot could tell what was going on. But then, the village idiot didn't have access to the files that told exactly what the situation was: Julia's mother was in need of a liver transplant due to cirrhosis. Cirrhosis, he knew for a fact, was caused by the excessive drinking of alcohol – in this case, anyway. He didn't know what it was like for her – his own mother had died running her car into a tree, a sudden death – but it couldn't have been any less heartbreaking than his own experience had been. Chase didn't know what to say or do; he only knew that some action out there had his name written all over it, an action no one else could take.

He decided it was a mess worth getting into. After all, he liked Julia a lot, and he really missed seeing her smile. Chase knew it wasn't likely that he'd get one out of her now, but if she'd stop crying, even momentarily, that would be quite enough.

He began to walk briskly toward her, then stopped as he saw Wilson eyeing him sharply. He knew he thought it was a bad idea to get involved with House's daughter, but his intentions were quite honorable, so why shouldn't he? Chase didn't know how well Wilson knew Julia, but he bet she knew a little bit more about him than she would have liked. For this reason, Chase felt bolder and continued walking.

"Want some company?" he asked, sitting down next to her.

She nodded quickly, her eyes never leaving the door. "It's taking longer than I thought," she commented quietly. "This is agony, Chase. I thought I'd seen my share of bad news, but I guess not."

"It's gonna be okay," he said softly, deciding it wasn't his role to play a doctor now. "I don't want you to get up and leave if you don't want to, but it's going to be several hours until we know anything for certain, so maybe you'd like to go elsewhere?"

Julia looked him in the eyes briefly, then glanced back at the OR entrance. "Like where?" she asked. "Would they be able to find us if something…you know, happened?"

"We could just walk around outside for a few minutes and you could stretch your legs a little." Chase gauged the expression on her face, and he was guessing that she wasn't feeling up to moving around after a night of no sleep. "Or we could go to the cafeteria, since I'm almost positive you haven't eaten in quite some time."

"You're right about that," Julia agreed and she stood up slowly. "That sounds like a good idea."

Chase stood with her and they walked together out of the waiting room. Julia couldn't help but look back at the doors a few times, just to see if anybody was rushing to her with news of her mom's condition. She had never felt so nervous in her whole life; her entire body was rigid and shaking.

They walked by Dr. Wilson, and Julia caught his eyes for a moment. He was surprised; she didn't look like she felt particularly hostile to him, just confused. The look Chase gave him was more menacing, as if he was saying, "Leave her alone. You had your chance and blew it; my turn now. Watch and learn." Conversely, she thought Wilson looked almost apologetic, for everything that had been going wrong lately. He looked like he wanted a second chance at…something. Julia might have stopped and talked to him, but at the present time, it was just too much. Wilson had been a great addition to her circle of friends, but the way things were now between them combined with all the other forces of the things that had been happening made it unbearable for her to think about this trial. She passed him by, vowing to talk to him later, if she got the chance.

"I promise, Julia, this is the worst part of the entire procedure," Chase told her as he lead the way. "The waiting, the anticipating. It will get better as time progresses."

"Chase, I don't mean to be rude, but you're speaking from the opposite end of the spectrum," Julia said. "Your mom…she's already passed away, right?"

"Yes," he said, suddenly feeling apprehensive about the subject. Here he was, facing an almost parallel situation, and he was just as clueless as how to help her deal with it as he was when he had to face it alone. "She didn't die like this. She was driving home under the influence of alcohol, and it impaired her judgment so much that she ended up in the wrong lane and veered into a tree when she swerved to miss a car. She was killed instantly, but it helped me a lot to know she didn't suffer."

"I'm sorry," Julia said. "I really am. But…what if my mom survives surgery? She's going to come out of the OR, still addicted, and it's a hard habit to break. When I die, it's going to be next to impossible for her to give it up." She swallowed hard and sat down at the first empty table she saw, wanting to avoid causing a scene in the middle of the cafeteria. "I mean…in a strange way, it would so comforting if this was the end."

Chase understood her dilemma, and it broke his heart to watch her facing it. She wanted her mom's life to be one of quality, so much that she'd fought for her to have this surgery, and now she wasn't sure that her mother, faced with a second chance at life, was going to be willing to take it. It was a hard place to be in, and he wished it could be as black and white for her as it was for him.

He sat down beside her and said, "Julia, I know because I've been there. It's okay to want to live for yourself a little bit. And for someone in your position, with only a short time left to enjoy life as you know it, it's got to be more important than ever." He hoped that sounded alright, sensitive and delicate enough for the situation. "You have every right to do what you want, and the fact that your mom is an alcoholic should not change that. And ultimately, either she will live or she will die. It sucks, but it's out of your hands. You've got to trust that she'll be okay, whatever happens."

Chase didn't know what he expected her to do – he hadn't done this to provoke tears, but it was so easy to get into these profound, philosophical monologues that seemed to have no ending point. He stopped and watched her.

Julia nodded, biting her lip, and said, "Thanks, Chase. You're right. I'm really lucky to have you, do you know that? Did you have anyone there to tell you these things and help you through it?"

He thought of his father and shook his head. "No."

She nodded again, then told him, "I just want you to know something about the AIDS. It wasn't my fault. I don't know why, but for some reason it's important to me that you know that, okay? I don't want to elaborate, really, but you've just got to trust me."

"I believe you," he replied simply, then sighed and leaned back. "You hungry?"

"A little bit," Julia said, shrugging. She was starving, but she didn't think it prudent to stuff her face when there were so many other things to worry about besides her hunger. Not to mention that she was concerned her monstrous appetite would scare Chase off.

"You want something to eat? My treat," he offered, smiling on the inside. He'd known Julia and Alma for three days and would have already taken them both out to eat if she agreed. Chase remembered his mom and knew she would have been proud that he'd taken on such a chivalrous nature.

"You don't have to do that," Julia said as she stood up and got in line. "You've been great to me since I got here, and then the way you took care of my mom…I can't let you do that."

"Come on, it's only a few bucks in exchange for the best dining company available," he protested good-naturedly.

"If you insist," Julia said, her mouth forming a hint of a smile.

Chase had gotten what he wanted. "And if the dining experience isn't pleasurable, you realize I'm going to have to make it up to you," he continued, feeling braver. "One complaint, and I'm whisking you off to as fine a restaurant as we've got in the state of New Jersey."

"Getting a little ahead of yourself there, aren't you, Chase?" Julia commented cheerfully as she eyed the hot turkey sandwich she had dropped on her tray. It was exactly what he'd been thinking, and he hoped it hadn't entirely scared her off. "But I'm keeping that in mind, I'll have you know. You'll be sorry."

They sat down and ate, discussing various things like the weather, carefully avoiding the topics of alcohol, sex, and difficult fathers.

Julia stopped eating and shot a look of malice at her food. "After three days of eating here, I can honestly say it's worse than school food," she commented, exaggerated her look of disdain in an attempt at humor.

"We're gonna have to fix that," Chase said, pushing his own plate away from him. He had to admit, even though it still beat airplane food in his humble opinion, it wasn't all that thrilling a concept.

"Indeed," Julia replied, panicking inside. What had possessed her to do that? Surely he had noticed that obviously-put hint. She didn't want to seem desperate; he might do the most lowly act he could possibly do and offer a date out of pity. That was the last thing she needed. "I'm sorry, I should really go back." She stood up and dumped out her trash. "Thank-you so much, Dr. Chase. I appreciate it so much."

Chase had been under the impression that things had been going very well, and the subtly-put hint she'd inserted in the conversation left him reeling with a sensation of good fortune. He was sure she might say yes if he suggested they hang out sometime. Nothing fancy, of course; maybe some dinner and a movie, or putt-putt golfing, or…something. He wasn't exactly sure of what people did on dates in America. Back in Australia, they did something wildly athletic to socialize, things like riding horses in the outback or dingo-hunting followed by a quick meal and some smores around a campfire. He wasn't so sure Julia would be receptive to those ideas, at least not right away. But hell, he was willing to try it, up until she'd realized what a mistake she'd made in hinting at someone as messed-up as he was to ask her out. _Nice save_, he thought sadly as he watched her walk away.

Chase stood up slowly and dumped out his trash as well, then picked up his pace as he got back to his duties as a doctor. His job had to come first. If he couldn't do that right, then he had no business asking a girl like Julia out.

_A girl like Julia_, he repeated to himself. She was a very unique person, and he was lucky to have met her. Chase couldn't debate with himself on that fact. But he knew he hadn't given adequate thought to her condition, or the fact that House would be standing by with his cane and a snide remark for him if anything went wrong, or Alma and the pain-tainted memories she presented. It was a lot to think about, and Chase couldn't blame himself if he decided his mind was best left on other things. It wasn't everyone that had the ability to love a girl like Julia the way she deserved. Still, Chase wondered if maybe, just maybe, he did.

* * *

Wilson watched from the clinic as Julia retreated from the cafeteria, taking small, quick steps as she did so. She didn't look upset, more…embarrassed. Looks could be deceiving, though, and he'd kill Chase if he'd said something stupid.

Wilson followed her back to the OR waiting room, feeling just a little bit ridiculous and sadistic. He didn't know what he was going to say. Maybe he should just try keeping his mouth shut for once and see what happened, but what did he expect her to say? _"Wilson, I'm sorry for being so tempting, please forgive me." _That was highly unlikely, to say the least.

He watched her resume her waiting position, erect and ready to spring at any news she could get her hands on. He swallowed hard, suddenly terrified of her. She was House's daughter, for crying out loud; he didn't know what she was capable of! Wilson hadn't thought House could hit that hard, but he had, and split his lip and loosened some teeth in the process. Julia was much younger and a girl. He couldn't hit a girl; it simply wasn't done, the way he saw it. He didn't stand a chance…but he'd noticed too late. Wilson was standing right in front of her, and she was looking straight at him. He felt like he was being lead to the gallows.

"Dr. Wilson," she said stiffly. "How's it going?"

He shrugged, and his voice increased an octave as he replied, "Pretty well, I guess, under the circumstances. I haven't fallen over and died of fright yet."

"Fright?" she said. "What could you possibly have to be scared of? I know I'm looking my best lately, but can't you give me a little credit for at least being freshly showered and wearing clean clothes? Or perhaps my appearance doesn't terrify you as much as the fact that the longer you stand here, the more people will have seen you with me, and that's not exactly healthy for your reputation, now is it?"

Wilson felt a pang of longing. He missed listening to her jokes, not to mention House's. Julia was funny enough, he supposed, but Greg House was a comic whose ability could never be mastered by anyone, even his offspring. "Look, Julia, I want to apologize for everything. I was wrong, I'm sorry, it will never happen again –"

"So on and so forth," she finished, cutting him off in mid-sentence. "I know. It's fine. I forgave you almost immediately. You'll excuse me if I don't fall into your arms and weep for joy right now. I'm a little preoccupied at the moment."

At least she wasn't giving him the silent treatment.

"I understand," Wilson said finally. "I just wanted you to know that, but under the circumstances, you probably don't care what I have to say –"

"_Au contraire_, Dr. Wilson," Julia said. "It means a lot to me that you came over here and talked to me. Really, no lie. Gives me something to be happy about, in the midst of everything else. Once all of this is over, I promise I'll get over myself and we can have a heart-to-heart about the whole thing. Right now, I really don't have the stamina to get through a conversation with you, or anybody, really. Nothing personal."

"You seem to be holding your own in regards to speech," Wilson commented. "Mind if I sit?"

Julia _did_ mind very much, but as he was already seated, she didn't feel like fighting with him to please get away from her. "Go right ahead," she muttered.

A shadow passed over Wilson's head, and he didn't want to turn around. He knew it was House. He knew it and was terrified of what would happen if he acknowledged his presence. _I don't want to die!_ he screamed inwardly.

"Dr. Wilson."

Wilson opened his eyes, not realizing he had scrunched them shut until his vision came back. _That's not House. House isn't Australian. _

"Dr. Chase," he said by way of greeting, irritated at the intrusion.

Julia rolled her eyes. This was misogyny at its finest; she wasn't used to having so many members of the opposite sex vying for her attention at the same time. And she certainly didn't need them _concerned_ about her. She could most definitely take care of herself, but she didn't have the emotional or physical capability of breaking them up in case they got into a scuffle.

"You alright, Julia?" Chase asked, deciding the best policy would be to ignore the interloper seated next to her. He sat down in the chair to Julia's right; Wilson was seated to her left. Julia was sandwiched between them, feeling that her personal space was being violated.

"I'm fine," she said, annoyed. Why couldn't they just go away and have their little quarrel somewhere else, preferably far enough away that she would forget they existed?

"Got somewhere to be, Dr. Wilson?" he continued. "An oncologist's work never ends, does it?"

"You're one to talk, Chase," Wilson replied, not in the mood for games. "I happen to know someone who's behind in his clinic hours for the week, and guess what? He's standing right in front of me!"

"Some things are more important than work," Chase shot back, glancing at Julia. _That's a good line,_ he thought to himself. _See, Julia, I'd fit into your family just fine. At least I wouldn't have to be the silent one at the family reunion; I could argue with the best of you._

"Some things aren't for you to go sticking your nose into," Wilson countered. "Julia and I were in the middle of a private conversation."

"No, we weren't," she protested, her voice small as their volumes increased. They had barely heard her.

"Fat chance! We were just about to go on a walk and get some fresh air."

"That's not true either," Julia said. They hadn't heard her at all that time.

Wilson's face was turning red. "Look, Chase, I've already told you House wouldn't approve –"

"Don't go pretending like you care about _my_ welfare," Chase told him. "I can see right through you, and I know an opportunist when I see one. Stay out of it. I gather you've already caused enough trouble."

"And you haven't?" Wilson sputtered. "Half the problems Julia is having would disappear if you'd just walk away."

"The only problem she's got right now is listening to you pretend you care!"

"My problem is that my mother is having major surgery performed on her right now, I just discovered I have a fatal disease that also serves as a transformation into a social leper, and you idiots don't even care enough to take your childish bickering somewhere else!" Julia screamed, drawing the attention of several passers-by with her loud voice and exaggerated movements as she stood up, breaking eye contact between Chase and Wilson. "Would you please just stop talking?"

They both heard her loud and clear that time, and her outburst had the desired effect. They both shut up.

"Well done, Julia. I couldn't have handled that better myself."

All three parties glanced up towards the entrance to the ICU. House was standing there, not unlike an angel in his appearance, at least to Julia, whose face had broken into a relieved smile. He appeared more like an executioner to Chase and Wilson.

"So," he said as he made his way over to them. "How about if you two kindly go away so I can talk to my daughter alone?"

* * *

Sorry, not as good of a cliffhanger as I'd like to leave you with, but I am being forced to spend quality time with my paternal caretaker, so I've gotta bounce. Reviews, anyone? Please, sir (or ma'am, or mademoiselle, as the case may be), I want some more! (How greedy can I get, honestly?) Thanks for reading! 


	19. Invitation to House's

Here's to you guys for all the fantastic reviews! You outdid yourselves!

**Queen of Blank: **No way, Chase belongs to ME! Haha, he's incredible; I love him. Anywho, you're not missing anything in regards to driving; I think it's terrifying, personally, but then that's just because my dad thinks it's a good idea to teach me to parellel park before I learn how to move forward. Anyways, glad you're loving the story, and thanks for reading!  
**47th Spirit:** Glad you like it! I hope you're caught up to this point, I know there are a lot of chapters.  
**Kris Wright: **I don't know how I did it, but I totally destroyed Wilson! I love him on the show, but I'm not particularly good at writing him (as you can see). Hopefully he'll get better in this fic, and will continue to be the Jimmy we all know and love if I write more House fics in the future. I'm so glad you like it!  
**Reitashnehelena**: Wow, that's so cool! You called yourself the biggest fan of this story! Awwwwwww, this must be what it feels like to havea baby and having people stop you in the grocery store and tell you how adorable they are! Haha, I wouldn't know, but thank-you so much, that's so awesome! Glad you enjoyed it!  
**Nikelodean:** Nothing to worry about in regards to the "paternal caretaker" thing. I love him, he loves me (...I think...), we just don't get along sometimes. No worries! I'm so happy to hear that you love the story!  
**Mrs Ronald Weasley:** Haha, I hope you can get caught up in this story; it's so long now, your head will be positively reeling by the time it's finished! Glad you like it.!  
**Irock708:** Here's my update; I hope it was worth waiting for!  
**Mollisk:** Chase is just awesome; he's great fun to write for and equally terrific to watch on the show. Thanks for the review; glad you like it!  
**Sweet A.K.:** Hey, what a coincidence, I love Aussies too! There's something about the accent that makes them seem so easy to love, you know? LOL! But some culture in the world must feel that way about the American accent, so whatever. I'm glad you liked it!  
**Amber Chase:** Here's the update; sorry it took so long! I hope you love it!

WHEW! My hands hurt from typing all of that, but I wouldn't have it any other way. Anywho, here's chapter nineteen, and it's not the best work I've ever done, but whatever, it can't be the worst. But I'll let you be the judge of that. Enjoy!

* * *

House had been watching the fascinating exchange of words between Wilson and Chase in the waiting room. His leg was beginning to ache from standing so long, but he couldn't help but be drawn into the argument. It was like watching a train wreck. House shook his head, amused by the primitive discussion taking place. He had almost pulled Foreman and Cameron aside and started taking bets on who would end up victorious, or if anyone would at all…

His attention was suddenly drawn to Julia, who had stood up and started pacing back and forth in a rage. Her voice had brought him out of his thoughts on his observations of Wilson and Chase. "Would you please just stop talking?" she screamed, hands shoved into her pockets, face pointed towards the sky as if asking the heavens for help, or at least the repairman crawling around up there playing the electrical wires.

House felt cruel for letting this go on long enough to upset his daughter, so he hurriedly walked over to them. "Well, done Julia," he commented. "I couldn't have handled that better myself."

She looked happy; Wilson and Chase looked slightly less pleased. Whatever. He didn't need their drama. He had enough of his own to deal with.

"So," he said as he walked over to Julia, eyeing his co-workers warily. "How about if you two kindly go away so I can talk to my daughter alone?"

Chase nodded, appropriately humbled by the supernatural presence of his boss, and pursed his lips. "Let me know if anything happens, will you, Julia?" he asked her. She nodded quickly. "Alright. I'll see you later." He shot House a furtive but very deliberate look, and for once, he really couldn't come up with the right description for it. There was some defiance, mixed with a contradictory respect, and possibly a little bit of something he didn't want to acknowledge as sorrow for his situation. Chase walked away.

House turned to Wilson. "Why don't you follow Dr. Chase's good example?"

"It's a free country," Wilson replied, arching an eyebrow. "I can be here if I want."

House felt the urge to clout him again, right in the lip, in the same place as before. It would certainly be an interesting experiment to see how far he could open the wound again. "What are you?" he asked, sniffing disdainfully. "Eleven? Only kids say that."

"Jimmy, I think you should go," Julia added softly. "I'll find you and let you know if anything changes before the operation's done."

"Alright," Wilson said, giving up the charade. It was one thing for House to kick him out of the waiting room; it was quite another for Julia to do it. "Bye." Wilson left the room as well.

House sat down next to Julia and asked her, "How's it going?"

"I don't know anything," she admitted. "Nothing's happened, that I know of."

"How are you feeling?"

Julia glanced at him in surprise. "I'm not the one having major surgery done on me. I don't have time to think about how _I'm_ feeling."

"You have a life-threatening disease that is just as important as your mother's liver transplant," House told her. "If you want to continue to feel well, even as you wait around for death, I have to know."

"I feel fine," she insisted. "A little tired, but then, sitting awake with an alcoholic all night will do that to you. And as long as we're on the subject of everyone's health, how are you feeling?"

"I've got nothing wrong with me," House said, amused on the surface, panicked below. _Everything_ was wrong with him.

Julia cocked an eyebrow. "Excuse me if I don't share that opinion," she requested.

"Why? What could you possibly think is wrong with _me_? I have never been violently assaulted like you –"

"I find that hard to believe," Julia said, smiling. "People must attack you all the time, what with the way you talk to them."

"I've been lucky," he relented. "But as I was saying, I've never been assaulted, and while I appreciate alcohol and its ability to make everything seem okay, I am most certainly not addicted to it."

"Well, that's okay. You already have your Vicodin."

He considered that, then nodded as he patted his pocket containing the pill bottle fondly. "As true as that may be, I'm still fine. I function. I work, I eat, I breath, and I sleep very well at night. Sometimes, I even have this thing called fun."

"You've got me beat," Julia said, laughing. Somehow, talking to House took her mind off her mom in a way nothing else could. Maybe he introduced bigger problems to her, more immediate, dangerous problems that required more attention. Like getting through a conversation with him without getting eaten alive. "Why do you need that Vicodin?" It wasn't as if she didn't already know. In fact, it was quite obvious _why_ he needed it. What she didn't know was what had happened.

House's mind was on red-alert. _I don't want to tell her this now!_ he screamed inwardly. "Why aren't you calling me Dad anymore? First it was Dr. House, then Dad, then just House, and now you aren't calling me anything." _Nice save. Ever on the offensive, Greg._

"To your face, anyway," Julia said. "To everyone else, I refer to you as 'Father House.' My personal favorite out of the choices I gave you the first day we met."

He rolled his eyes. "Please tell me you're kidding."

"I'm kidding."

"I'm going to have to punish you for such bad behavior," House told her sternly. "No more crosswords out of that book of yours, the one that Cameron and Chase and Foreman gave you. I can see it's having a bad influence."

"You have a lot to learn," Julia said. "You've got to do better than that. That's an Alma thing to do. Not severe enough, doesn't fit the crime, and doesn't teach a lesson."

"What would a normal parent do?"

"I don't know," she said, shrugging. "Grounding, maybe?"

"Corporal punishment," House decided. "I've always been a big fan of that."

"I've had quite enough of corporal punishment, thank-you," Julia said stiffly. "Not to mention the fact that I'm much too old for that sort of thing."

"You live under my roof, you follow my rules," House replied. "That's the way it works."

"I don't live under your roof, though," she said, bringing the conversation to a sudden halt as they both realized that this wasn't playful banter anymore. _Isn't that how it always is? One little thing screws it all up_, Julia thought. "I mean…"

"I'll tell you what," House mumbled, not believing he was actually doing this. "Your mother won't be out of the ICU for a few days, and that's if we know beyond the shadow of a doubt that everything is going well. Why don't you get a few things together and come spend a night at my place? I've got a t.v., I'm sure I can rustle up some Coca-Cola for you, since you're unlucky enough to be under-age, and we've got a Domino's right down the street. Sound good?"

"Sounds like a party," Julia said, smiling on the inside. _He is sooooooo sweet!_ she gushed in her mind. _He's trying to be all tough and manly, but the reality of it is that he wants me, his daughter, to come hang out with him! I wish I could take a picture of him right now, because I want to remember this forever…_ "I'd love to," she said.

House gave her a quick nod, suddenly nervous about the whole idea. _This isn't going to go down like it's supposed to,_ he predicted. _I can feel it. One night will turn into a few, a few nights will turn into a week, a week will turn into a month, and a month will turn into however long it takes until she dies. And she _will_ die._ The word terrified him unexpectedly. He wasn't prepared for this, to love someone and then have to watch them fade away. Try as he might, he couldn't prevent either of the two from happening. It was best, he decided, to pretend he had forever to cherish the time he had with his daughter. The unpleasantness of her passing would hurt all the more later, he knew, but letting it get to him now would color the next few months in darkness. "Good," he said. "After we learn what's going on here, we can go back to your place, get your stuff, and then we'll go to my apartment."

Julia nodded, then her eyes caught on something moving rapidly towards them from the OR. She stood up and walked briskly to the door. "Dr. Hayes," she said to the surgeon before he'd even stepped into the waiting room. "What's up?"

House was at her side in an instant, and Hayes talked directly to him, leaving Julia to feel like an eavesdropper. Everyone here felt like she was an intrusion! They didn't respect her position as they should have. If they had been there and seen what she and her mother had been through together, then they would have understood.

"Surgery is complete," he said. Dr. Arnold Hayes was a short and stocky man with almost no hair to speak of. The combination of his chubby, bright face and voice not unlike Piglet's made him the quintessential village idiot, but House knew he wasn't as dumb as he looked and felt it prudent to listen up. "She's being taken to ICU for recovery, and you can see her in a few minutes. I must warn you, though the surgery itself was successful, she's a far cry from well. Her vitals are lower than what they should be, and there's always the risk of rejection." He paused, giving himself a chance to catch his breath and House a chance to glance at Julia to gauge her reaction. _Better than I would have expected,_ he mused. _Pale, hands in fists, that hopeless, desperate look in her eyes. Oh, well. At least she's not crying yet. _The thought discouraged him, signaling that he had a long way to go before he could consider himself a father. "Ultimately, it's too soon to say anything for Mrs. Peterson, but if she pulls through, that's when the real battle begins. She has to get her alcoholism under control."

"Okay," House said, motioning him away.

"Room 121, for when you go to see her." Dr. Hayes walked away.

Julia, not feeling it necessary to wait for House, hurried into the ICU. "Mom?" she said as she burst into the room. Alma was asleep on the bed, the monitors hooked up to her beeping steadily. She didn't look particularly well, but hell, it was a far cry from being dead. Julia sat down beside her, assuming the same position she had been in for the previous night. She took her hand and kissed it, refusing to cry.

House watched them but didn't come in. Since his "conversation" with Alma and invitation to Julia, he was feeling crowded and wanted some time to him and his thoughts. He was about to turn away and leave, when one particular notion struck him: patients in comas can hear everything said to them.

He brushed a hand across his forehead, feeling little beads of sweat beginning to form. There would be hell to pay when she woke up.

* * *

This is shorter than most of my chapters, I know, and not particularly significant in the grand scheme of things. Sorry, friends, I've been a bit distracted lately, but I'm trying to be faithful in updating. Next chapter should be better! I'm going to try not to sacrifice the quality of my work for the sake of being timely, but I so hate having an un-updated story hanging over my head. (And getting lots of reviews helps. Wink, wink.) Thanks for reading!

Also, on three totally unrelated notes:

1) I loathe it when people ask me how much I weigh. (I'm anything but insecure – it's just a pet peeve.)

2) According to my driving teacher, I could have two drinks and still be under the legal BAC limit in Maryland, at least if I was 21.

3) Sunless tanning lotion smells really bad.

Chapter Twenty should be up in a few days!


	20. Surprises At IHOP

Thanks for the reviews, you guys! I haven't got hours of time like I usually do to reply to each and every one of you, but please please PLEASE don't let it keep you from reading! I'd like to thank everyone because I love what you have to say; it what makes my world go 'round. However, I also wanted to add a few things for certain people:  
**L'il-Miss-Blondie:** Eeewwwwww...porn between House and Wilson? Not right! I've never been a fan of slash, and...haha, not gonna think about it.  
**Queen of Blank:** LOL, parellel parking is impossible! I couldn't get it right for an hour, and he was getting all frustrated with me, and I started crying and I ended up backing the car over a curb. I threw it into park and I was like, "I'll never drive again!" I am so jealous! My parents are making me buy a car. I don't want anything specific, though; I just want something that runs, has A/C and a heater and a CD player.  
**Flatkatsi: **Sorry, I don't mean to sound like I assume AIDS is always the patient's fault! I didn't mean to make it sound that way, I swear. I know that blood needed for transfusions needs to be tested, and I thought that started sometime during the early 80s...I could be wrong, though. (My information came from a Lurlene McDaniel novel - probably not the best source!) Julia, if she was a real person, would have born in 1986, too late if my info. is correct, to have had a blood transfusion. Sorry about that!  
**Reitashnehelena:** I'd be honored if you were my biggest fan! Haha, this is so cool! You have no idea how happy you've made me; now I can die happy. Not that I plan on doing so anytime soon...haha, you'll have to forgive me, I'm just a sad, sorry little person. Just nod politely and I'll go away and write some more, mm-kay?  
**Badr:** Don't review any more than you want to! I appreciate that you've been reading, though, and I'm glad to hear that you still enjoy it. Compliments will go to my head after a while; don't make my poor family's lives unbearable! They have to live with my already sky-high ego - poor people! Come on, surely you have a morsel of constructive criticism:)

So to make up for my last chapter, which was a little shorter, this one is insanely long and is mostly the product of a hungry imagination that has been over-fed in the dreadful driving classes. Two more days, friends, then I can actually get something profound done in this story! Until then, I'm just having fun with it. Enjoy, if you can!

* * *

Julia took a cautious step into House's apartment, breathing it in for the first time. It smelled sad, if scent can be described in emotions. The colors were dark and dreary, the furniture dull and lifeless. It wasn't as unclean as her own house, but it was still a far cry from what could be considered healthy living conditions. A piano was tucked in a corner and a television into one opposite. "We've got to fix this," she murmured as she looked around.

"I'll say," House said from behind her. "Since when do I have to carry around your luggage? My leg isn't up to this kind of hard labor. Move!"

Julia smiled and obediently stepped aside as House pushed past her. He made a great show of dropping her overnight back in front of her. "You know, I might have been moved to pity if there were more in that bag besides a toothbrush, a comb, and some pajamas," she said.

"It's _pajamas_, as in that fruity stuff you spread all over your toast in the morning," House informed her. "Say it with me. _Pajamas._"

"Pajamas."

"No, _pajamas_!"

Julia rolled her eyes. "House, it's just some sweatpants and t-shirt. It's not worthy of any special name. It's not like a negligee or anything."

"Good," House said. "No daughter of mine is going to go around wearing that stuff to bed. I might expect that from Cuddy, but not from you."

"Cuddy?" Julia said. "No way! You know what Dr. Cuddy sleeps in?"

House shook his head. "Of course not," he replied. "That's the kind of thing you can just tell."

"It seems to me she'd wear something flannel to bed," Julia mused. "Like, it's her subconscious way of assuring herself that she's safe, like a security blanket. She's so tough; she needs something like that."

"This is a new concept: psychology by sleepwear," House commented as he went to the refrigerator, then stopped. "Uh-oh."

"What?"

"I forgot. I have nothing in the way of food in this house. And all of my Coca-Cola is flat," House told her. "Looks like we're going hungry tonight."

Julia shook her head emphatically. "No sir. You don't have a lady over to your apartment and then starve her. No wonder you and Cameron aren't together yet. You've got a lot to learn."

"Excuse me?" House said, dumb-struck by her bluntness. "Cameron and I aren't together because we don't like each other."

"You just keep telling yourself that," Julia said. "Come on, think for a second. What kind of food are you in the mood for?"

"Breakfast," House replied. "I've pretty much eliminated the meal from my diet, and I'm kind of getting a craving."

"Care to elaborate?"

"Long story."

Julia opened his pantry and looked inside. "I can see that," she commented, studying each shelf. "This is disgraceful. You should be ashamed of yourself…" She snorted suddenly, and her hand flew to her nose. "Oh, crap!"

"What's wrong?"

"I think I just got a grain bug up my nose," she whined, picking up an open package of Saltines. More grain bugs flew out. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

"I'm going to have to fire Maria," he said. "The worst housekeeper I've ever hired."

Julia rolled her eyes and grinned. "No use blaming this on your imaginary friends. Let's go."

"Go where?" House wanted to know.

"IHOP," she replied, as if he was stupid for not knowing. "Breakfast at any time of the day, genius. Come on."

House grabbed his keys, but Julia snatched them out of his hand. "I'm driving," she explained. "That's one sweet ride you've got."

"Don't hurt her," House begged as they stepped into the elevator.

"So as long as we're on the subject of pajamas, what kind do you think Chase wears?" Julia asked a little too nonchalantly.

"For the last time, it's _pajamas_," House told her, then stopped and considered the question. "You want to know my opinion of what Dr. Chase sleeps in?"

"I find it fascinating that you make such logical guesses about what your co-workers wear to bed," Julia said coolly. "I'm merely encouraging you to pursue a topic of conversation that makes you happy."

"I think you're encouraging me to pursue a topic of conversation that makes _you_ happy," House replied. "And in answer to your question, if you want to know so bad, find out yourself."

"You shouldn't go around telling me to do stuff like that," Julia gasped. "A _real_ father wouldn't do that. Plus…" She trailed off as they reached the car. "I don't think Chase is interested in letting _me_ find out what he wears to bed. You know, since I'm sick."

House looked down, embarrassed at his conversational gaffe. It had been obvious from the beginning that he would need to be more sensitive to Julia's situation, but it was going to be next to impossible if little remarks like that kept slipping out of his mouth. "Sorry," he mumbled.

"It's fine," Julia said. She put the key in the ignition and turned on the car. She listened to the engine rev, and squealed. "This is going to be so cool!"

"Be gentle," House pleaded. "Really, she's all I've got." He wondered for a fleeting moment what it was that had prompted him to start referring to his car, an inanimate object, as a she.

"Don't worry," Julia said, winking as she threw the car into reverse. "I promise I won't go over ninety."

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, they were seated in a booth at the local IHOP studying the menu.

"What can I get you?" asked a platinum-blonde, droning waitress with a pungent odor of bubble gum surrounding her. She didn't look a day under forty.

"A cup of coffee," House told her.

"Water, please," Julia requested.

"Water?" House scoffed. "You're no fun. Don't tell me you're going to order a salad with fat-free dressing too."

Julia glared at him, humor dancing in her eyes despite the expression on her face. "Never mind about the water," she told the waitress. "I'd like a Coke."

The waitress, whose name-tag read Peg, nodded and swaggered away.

"Alright, fine," Julia hissed. "You want me to turn into a tub of lard, that's what I'll do. I'm going to order all the food I can possibly shove into my mouth. You'll be sorry."

"I hardly think you're in danger of that," House replied. "You're a twig."

Julia rolled her eyes. "Whatever, dude," she said as she flipped through the menu.

Peg came back five minutes later with their drinks. House ordered a Belgian waffle with a side of sausage and an extra scrambled egg. Julia ordered a cheeseburger with onion rings and a side salad with all-fat-included Ranch dressing. House was pleased and nodded in approval.

House spotted something familiar yet out of place out of the corner of his eye. He twisted around in his seat and was met with Alison Cameron. "Oh, hi, House," she said, sounding surprised. "I didn't know you were coming here."

"I didn't either," he admitted.

"Cameron!" Julia cried, smiling. "Fancy meeting you here!" Something in her voice told House she knew Cameron was going to come by. In fact, that something told him she'd insisted on it.

"Come, sit down," Julia said. She did not move her purse from where it was seated on the booth next to her, silently suggesting that Cameron sit next to House.

The two older members of the party glanced at each other and smiled helplessly. They both knew the path of least resistance would work best. Cameron slid into the booth next to House. "Hi," she said again.

"Hi," House said. "How are you, Cameron?"

"You mean since you saw her approximately one hour ago?" Julia said, unsuccessfully attempting to surpress a smile. "She looks pretty good to me."

"Kind of tired, but yes, I'm feeling good," Cameron said, looking around the restaurant uneasily. It seemed like she was searching for something…

"I was supposed to meet someone here," an Australian voice said faintly. They barely heard it over the whir of the fans and the clanking of plates, but it was there, and they all noticed. "I don't know if she's seated yet, but…"

"Chase!" Cameron called. "Over here!"

Robert Chase glanced at her, grinned as he saw his boss peeking over the seat beside her, then truly smiled as he saw Julia's stunned expression. "Thanks," he said to the hostess. "That's my party. I'll just have a menu, please."

Julia glanced at Cameron and glared at her. "What's this all about?" she hissed.

Cameron shrugged innocently. "I thought I might bring a friend, since you didn't mention before that anyone else would be here," she cooed. House glanced sharply at Julia, who reddened and looked away.

"Very funny," he muttered, but he was smiling.

Chase sat down next to Julia, who had moved her purse once her heart had started beating again. "How's it going?" he said to Cameron. "Hello, Dr. House," he said to House. "Hi, Julia," he almost whispered as he greeted her.

She managed to nod. "Chase," she said.

The waitress came back with a coffee pot to refill House's already empty mug. "Looks like your party grew," she commented dryly, whipping out a pad of paper and a pen. "What can I get you?"

"A glass of water," Cameron said. House rolled his eyes. Julia just grinned.

"A Coke," Chase ordered. Peg walked away.

No one said anything.

"Who orchestrated this?" House wanted to know. "I somehow find it hard to believe this was coincidence."

"I came because Cameron said we were going to hang out," Chase said defensively. House and Julia both shot him angry looks, House for moving in on Cameron, Julia for feeling left out. "I mean," he continued, beginning to sweat, "just, you know, eat and all that. She said she asked Foreman but he couldn't make it."

"Okay," House said, turning to Cameron. "What about you? What's your story?"

"Julia said she might come by, and that maybe we could get a bite to eat and talk," she stammered.

"And what's with Chase? Why'd you drag him along?"

Cameron turned a deep shade of red. "I thought maybe…ummm…uhhh…I thought…" _I thought I might try a little matchmaking_, she finished in her mind.

"I've heard enough," House said. "Your turn, Julia. Anything you want to tell Daddy?" He heard Chase snicker.

Julia shrugged. "Nothing, Dad," she said innocently.

"Nothing?"

She shook her head. "Absolutely nothing."

Peg came back with Chase and Cameron's drinks, and everyone was secretly grateful for the intrusion. Cameron ordered a BLT and fries; Chase ordered a stack of buttermilk pancakes, a side of bacon, and a fruit bowl. Peg walked off to punch in their order.

"How's your mom?" Chase asked Julia.

"No change yet," she said, secretly disappointed that he had reminded her. It was easier to have fun when she didn't think about _it_. "Dad, you have your phone on, right? In case someone calls?"

He saluted. "You can count on me," he said.

Julia rolled her eyes and grinned. "As far as I know, she's alive. Barely. But that's better than nothing, right?"

Chase nodded. "Right."

House asked Cameron how she was again; she repeated that she was fine and asked him the same question. House said he was doing well. They both looked away, trying to come up with some means of conversation.

Chase and Julia watched this exchange, and looked at each other and grinned. "Pathetic," Julia mouthed, glancing sideways at House.

"I know," he mouthed back.

"So," Julia said brightly. "Let's liven things up a little bit. Who's up for a game of Truth or Dare?"

"Oh boy," House muttered, gulping down some coffee. "I'm not. What was I thinking? Teenage girls are a whole new creature to me. I forgot they like to do things like this."

"Come on," Cameron said. "It might be fun. I'm in."

"I'm in, too," Chase agreed. "I'm not sure if I'm up for a lot of dares, though."

"That's fine," Julia told him. "I'm much more interested in hearing you answer truths. Cameron: Truth or Dare?"

Cameron panicked inwardly. "Ummm…" she said.

"I'm not going to do anything mean…yet," she said, her eyes gleaming. "Truth or Dare?"

"Truth," she decided.

"Alright." Julia thought for a moment. "Let's start with something easy. Tell me one thing about yourself that we wouldn't expect to be true about you."

"I speak Spanish fluently," she said automatically. "I met the nicest guy in college, and he was from Mexico. Very attractive, very smart. He taught me."

"I'd like to hear a little," House said. "It's not true if you can't prove it."

Cameron looked him in the eyes and said, "_El burro sabe más que tú_."

Julia burst out laughing. Chase and House glanced at each other, confused. "What does that mean?" Chase asked.

"She said a donkey knows more than he does," Julia giggled. "I believe you, Cameron. Good job. Now it's your turn."

"House, truth or dare?" Cameron asked.

"Dare," he selected. "I'm feeling adventurous."

"You have to drink four more cups of coffee before we leave here tonight," she told him. "This is your punishment, Julia: a hyperactive House."

She rolled her eyes, but knew she was getting what she deserved.

House nodded. "I can do that easily," he boasted. "Chase, truth or dare?"

"Truth," he decided.

"What do you really think of my daughter, Julia Peterson House?"

No one spoke. A terrified expression formed on Chase's face.

"Since when did my name turn into _that_?" Julia wanted to know.

"Seems fair, don't you agree?" House replied. "We're all waiting breathlessly, Chase. Let's hear it."

Chase swallowed. "I think she's great."

"Care to elaborate?" House asked.

"Ummm…I think she's very kind, very fun-loving and spontaneous, a little mischievous, perhaps…" He ran through his mental list of adjectives that described Julia. "Insightful, intelligent, compassionate…" He peeked in Julia's direction and saw her blushing. "And she's pretty, especially when she's blushing. Just like she is now."

She gave him a light punch on the shoulder. "Chase!" she said. "That's not fair! You're embarrassing me!"

House looked pleased to hear this tribute to his daughter. "I'm glad to hear that. Chase, it's your turn. Give her hell."

Chase nodded somberly. "Julia, truth or dare?"

She gulped. Either way, she was going to lose. She knew it. "Truth," she mumbled.

He wanted to ask her why she wouldn't tell him why she had gotten AIDS, but he knew this was not the place for it. Besides, he wanted to see more of that cute expression she donned when she was flabbergasted. "What's the worst thing about having Dr. House as your dad?"

Cameron clapped her hands. "That's an excellent question," she exclaimed. "House, pay attention."

Julia looked trapped. "Wow…" she said slowly, considering the question. Then she grinned. "He won't let me do my crosswords anymore! He says they're a bad influence!"

"House," Cameron scolded. "I can't believe you."

"I'm not going to be able to do this coffee thing if she never comes back," House complained, staring mournfully into his empty mug.

Luckily, Peg came back at that precise moment with their food and refills. The game of Truth or Dare continued. They found out that House secretly held Dr. Cuddy in high esteem, Julia wanted to be a doctor if she grew up (she did use the word "if"), Chase was going to be forced to wear his hair in pigtails to work on Monday, and it was Cameron's turn when they finally paid the bill.

"Come on, Cam," Chase persisted. "Truth or Dare?" He held the door open as they all walked out. He noticed that House allowed Cameron to go before him.

"I'm feeling adventurous," she said. "Dare."

Julia gave Chase a look that said, "Make her do it _now_!" Somehow, he knew exactly what she meant, because he wanted to see it too.

He put on a devilish smile, striking fear into Cameron's heart. "You have to kiss House," he told her.

"Chase, you jerk, pick something else!" she told him, laughing. "That's so mean!"

"Might as well," House said to her, swinging his cane back and forth. "He's not going to come up with anything better."

Julia's mouth dropped open and she let out an, "Awwwww!"

Cameron regarded him in wonder. "Are you serious?"

He shrugged. "It's gotta be the caffeine. I'm willing to try anything at this point. You'd better hurry up, before I change my mind."

Julia and Chase were on one side of the car; House and Cameron were on the other. Chase and Julia looked each other in the eyes and grinned. This was going to go down in history as one of the most amazing things they had ever seen. "Should we give them some privacy?" Julia asked Chase softly.

"You mean turn around?" he asked. "No way! We can't miss this! I need to see it so I can use it to keep him from spreading around that picture of me in the dress."

"This feels wrong," she insisted.

"Turn around if you want to," Chase told her. "I'm not missing this for the world."

Julia groaned but remained facing House and Cameron's direction.

They moved in closer, his chest skimming hers. They were both looking downward to the right. "We have to do this sometime," House observed.

"Yeah, well, you're the man. You get to initiate."

"It's your fault we're in this situation in the first place."

"Just do it!" Chase called. "We're not leaving until it's finished."

Cameron rolled her eyes, leaned up, and kissed him.

Julia let out a cry of happiness and fell against Chase. "Look at that!" she gushed. "Isn't it incredible?"

"Amazing," he breathed. He watched as House and Cameron kissed…and kissed…and kissed… "You can let go now, if you want. Don't let us stop you, though."

House and Cameron pulled apart slowly, arms entwined, looking each other straight in the eyes. House had a satisfied grin on her face; Cameron was blushing hard. Neither knew what to say. How could they possibly put what had just happened, what had started out forced and ended up as a choice, what they had enjoyed and been left wanting so much more of, into words?

"That was so cool!" Julia cried. "I'll bet nobody else's dad does that!"

"I've seen enough," Chase told her. "Come on, let's go take a walk somewhere. Give them some private time."

"Hey, Chase!" Cameron called. "It's your turn."

He stopped dead in his tracks. "Truth," he said automatically.

"Oh, no, you don't," House said. "You get a dare. Under ordinary circumstances, I'd shoot you if you did this, but you have my full permission. Kiss Julia!"

Julia's eyes widened. "That's not fair," she said.

"It wasn't fair to us either," Cameron retorted. "Come on, chickens!"

Chase shook his head. "I can't, House," he said. _Well, I could if you weren't watching_, he added silently.

"Chase, I'm going to put the picture on the internet! Send it to your dad, maybe," House told him. "We're good friends now. We play internet golf together sometimes. I wonder what he'd think…"

Chase pulled Julia to him and kissed her. She almost died from the niceness of it. House and Cameron burst out laughing. "Take a picture with the cell phone!" she screamed. "Hurry up, quick!"

House ripped his cell phone out of his pocket and pressed the camera button. It started singing "Greensleeves."

"You idiot!" Cameron said, laughing. "You missed it! At least get the expression on Julia's face; that's classic!"

Indeed, it was; Julia looked stunned, like she might fall over any second from shock. _Now I've done everything_, she thought as she started laughing too.

"Hey," House said. "This phone's really ringing."

"Answer it," Chase suggested, hoping against hope that Julia wouldn't get him for this later. He felt bad about it, he really did, but the last thing he needed was House telling the whole world that Chase had once worn a dress. He was probably bluffing, but just to be safe…

"Hello?" House said into the phone as each couple came together to form a circle. "Oh, it's you."

Cameron leaned up against him, listening. "Wilson," she mouthed.

"Why are you calling me? I'm kind of busy right now, and I was under the impression that we weren't speaking. By the way, Chase just kissed Julia. I thought you might want to know."

Everyone heard Wilson scream, "He did _what_?"

"How does it feel?" House wanted to know.

Julia shut her eyes wearily and yanked the phone out of his hand. "Hi, James," she said. "Don't listen to him; he's just being irritating. Don't worry about it; what's up? Why are you calling?" She paused, listening. "She's awake? My mom's awake? Thank-you so much; we'll be right there." She flipped the phone shut. "He's calling because he was working late, and he found out that my mom woke up. Dad, can we go see her?"

"Of course, pumpkin," he said. Cameron giggled; try as he may, House could not manage to pull off the pet-name thing. She had a sneaking suspicion he was making a parody of the situation, so she didn't say anything. "Mind if I drive?"

She tossed him the keys and turned to say good-bye to Chase. "I'll see you later, okay?" she said, hoping the end the evening on a dignified note. She held out her hand for a shake.

"Nice try," he said. Chase gave her a hug and told her goodnight. She got into the car, feeling giddy from the event that had just taken place. It was nothing short of incredible.

"Good luck," Cameron said softly once Julia was in the car and Chase was pulling out of the parking lot. "With Alma, I mean. I know it'll probably be awkward."

"Understatement of the year," House said, biting his lip. "Thanks, though. I need all the luck I can get at this point."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked him.

House shrugged. "Cameron, just when you think you've seen it all, something new comes along. Today is no exception."

"Sorry," she said apologetically. "I guess I wasn't helping back there, with the whole…you know, kissing thing."

He shook his head. "I would have agreed with you a week ago, but in fact, I feel the exact opposite way. You're keeping everything bearable, Cameron. I don't know how, but you are, and I wouldn't have it any other way." He touched her cheek, and for a moment she braced herself for whatever might happen next, because almost anything could have. But House didn't move any further. He moved away slowly and said, "Goodnight, Alison. I'll see you tomorrow."

It wasn't until he'd pulled away and sped down the street that Cameron realized that neither of them were working tomorrow. "What did he mean by that?" she asked no one in particular, then she smiled and giggled as she skipped to her own car. Who knew her most unattainable dream would come true in the IHOP parking lot?

* * *

In my defense, I'd like to say that driving school is making my imagination do all kinds of crazy things. I attribute this chapter to temporary insanity. Two more days, then hopefully my writing will get a little bit better. Or at least a little more realistic. Reviews, anyone? 


	21. Reparations

Thanks for the reviews! I love them, I love them, I love them, as always. I'm sensing a lot of happiness about the House/Cam thing? I'm glad I could make you all happy. :P LOL, that one's always been a little weird for me, but I wanted to see if I could make it work. I kind of like it now too; in fact, I started a new story that is House/Cam from chapter one if you're interested. (Come on, you know you want to give it a read! It's called "In The Name of Love." The first chapter's pretty boring, in my humble opinion, but if you get to the end of the second chapter, I think you might find that you're hooked. Haha, sorry, I just thought it was interesting idea, but this isn't the place to start propaganda for a different story…) Anyways…

**Reitashnehelena: **Glad you liked it, my fave #1 fan! LOL! That was for you (and about a hundred million other House/Cam fans, but mostly for you)!

**Amber Chase:** Haha, yes, Chase and Julia belong together. I read it over and I was like, "If it was me, I might have fainted." She's a strong one, that Julia. Glad you liked it!

**L'il-Miss-Blondie:** Glad you enjoyed the Truth or Dare thing. House/Cam was harder than I thought it would be; I'm glad you think I did the couple justice! I think it'll take a few seasons for me to be comfortable with them on the actual show, but whatever, it was fun to write that for them!

**Nikelodean:** I knew before I posted the chapter that I was going to get bombarded with the facts – not a bad thing, of course, but I knew. Maybe that makes me more ignorant, but oh well, at least I'm still true to me. :P I considered the possibility of having Alma die too, but that would have been unbearable for poor Julia! (I never thought I'd get so attached to someone who's not even real.) I was hoping I could sneak past the facts in that particular chapter so Alma could get a second chance and grow up. So yes, I know the chances of her getting a liver in that amount of time in real life are about none, but she lives in the world of my imagination where everybody gets a liver! Haha, but thanks for reading and allowing me to make these mistakes; it really helps!

**The Lilac Elf of Lothlorien:** To each his/her own. I've always had a hard time picturing House and Cameron together, but I wanted to try it out and I like it! Thanks for reading!

**Kris Wright: **Haha, I'm so bad at romance, but I just have to keep trying! I'll try my best not to make future chapters cheesy and lame. Also, you have to back around a corner? I can't even back straight! I'm a danger on the road. Stay far away…Haha, thanks for reading!

**Eternalgorithm:** Haha, for all my use of profanity, I still have to ask one extremely dumb question: bitchin' means good, right? LOL, sorry, I'm the biggest nerd ever! Thanks for tolerating my writing and idiocy and everything else; I really appreciate it!

**Japanese Gaisher Doll:** I did the House/Cam thing because I knew it would make everyone happy. I've never been a fan of the relationship, but now that I've seen the possibilities it really looks like fun! I think you'll like the direction I end up going in.

**Queen of Blank: **No way, Chase is MINE! Haha, we're going to have to work out a custody arrangement with the man. One week at your house, one week at mine. :P Also, if your dad was selling _Houses_, I would be his first customer, but as it is, I don't have quite enough $$ to scrape together a down payment on a normal-people house yet, otherwise I'd help you out. LOL, no, I'm not gonna quit driving, but I'm never gonna get behind the wheel of a car with my dad again…He's just too OCD about everything, you know? I know driving is very dangerous and not something you should mess around with, but the fact that I can't parallel park yet is not a safety issue, unless I'm driving around in the city or something. Am I _right_? Haha, sorry, the man gets me so irritated sometimes…Anyways, getting off the subject, aren't I? Thanks for reading!

**Runs with sissors: **Sorry about the out-of-characterness; while I agree with you 100 that they were nothing like themselves (except for Julia, who can be anything I want her to be because she belongs to me), it was fun to write and I can't bear to change it! If I'm allowed to play with them, I get to make them play Truth or Dare and kiss whoever they want! Haha, sorry, but thanks for coming back; I missed you:P Hope this chapter is a bit more realistic.

Here's chapter 21, which is just incredible because I've never stuck with _anything_ this long (knock on wood), and I sincerely hope you enjoy it!

* * *

Julia burst into the ICU, walking fast in the direction of her mom's room. "Mom," she said as she pushed the door open. "Mom?"

"Hey," she croaked.

Julia smiled sympathetically. "You sound terrible, no offense," she told her. "Can I get you anything?"

"Morphine," Alma said. "Other than that…" She shrugged.

Julia sat down beside her. "I'm sorry I wasn't here," she apologized. "Dad and I went out to get something to eat…"

"You call him dad now, huh?" Alma observed. "That's good. Do you two get along?"

"Pretty well, I guess," she said. "He's a lot better than he seemed when I first met him."

"How so?"

"He's a lot nicer than you made him out to be, that's for sure," Julia told her. "He's a far cry from Mother Teresa, but he's not Len either."

"Ah, yes," Alma said. "Len. I've been meaning to talk with you about him."

"Don't tell me," Julia said. "Let me guess. 'Julia, I know you don't like him, but there are some things you don't understand. Love is one of them. I love Len, despite how he can be sometimes, and you have to understand that. That's why I'm going back to him again.' I know exactly what you're going to say, Mom, and I've spent nineteen years coming up with this: I understand love a hell of a lot better than you do. You can love Len all you want, but if he loved you, he wouldn't treat you the way he does, and he wouldn't let you do _this _to yourself!" She indicated the hospital bed. "You can't keep falling into the same trap over and over and over again. You've gotten a second chance, and I don't want to see you throw it away on him."

Alma, to Julia's surprise, nodded miserably. "I know, Julia. That's not at all what I was going to say. Quite the opposite, in fact." She sat up with some difficulty, wincing as she did. "I can't promise you that everything's going to end up being perfect, but I'm going to take care of you for a change. Starting with kicking Len out of my life."

Julia squealed in delight, then blushed slightly, knowing her mother was making a huge sacrifice. Hell, maybe she was right; maybe Julia _didn't _understand everything about love. Because _this_ was love. It wasn't all roses and diamond rings, kisses in the IHOP parking lot, or whispering three little words in someone's ear. Love was giving up everything for someone else when your mind is telling you no and your heart is telling you yes. "Mom," she said, feeling perilously close to tears, "you don't know how much this means to me."

"Oh, I think I do," Alma said. Julia bent in to hug her, but Alma pushed her to arm's length before she could get too close. "Sorry, honey. It kind of hurts to move right now. I'll hug you tomorrow and never let go, okay?"

Julia nodded, her eyes watering. "Okay."

Alma kissed her on her head and said, "Could you send Greg in for a minute?"

"Greg? You mean Dad?"

"Whatever you want to call him," Alma said. "I just need to speak with him for a minute."

"Be gentle," Julia pleaded. "He's had a rough couple of days."

Alma flashed her a wicked smile. "Don't worry," she said.

Julia pushed the door open and hit House, who had been pacing back and forth, in the arm. "Dad," she gasped. "I'm so sorry; I didn't even see you there!"

"It's fine," he told her tiredly. "Ready to go? This place is making me nervous." _How in hell am I going to get back to work like this?_ he wondered.

"She wanted to talk to you for a minute," Julia told him helplessly, motioning into the room.

House felt his stomach drop. "About what?" he asked, fearing the worst.

Julia shrugged carelessly. "I don't know," she said. "Ask her yourself." She moved out of his way to let him in.

"I'll get you for this if she suffocates me with the pillow," House told her sharply, going in to meet his doom. "Even if I die, I'll come back and haunt you." Julia shut the door and he was left alone with a conscious Alma for the first time in nineteen years. "How are you feeling?" he asked politely.

"As good as can be expected, I guess," she replied, eyeing him amusedly. "I'm not going to keep you long, and I'm not going to suffocate you with the pillow, in case you were worried. I just wanted to tell you that I heard everything you said, that day in the car."

House nodded. "I'm sorry," he said. "I know I was being a jerk, but I entirely forgot that people in comas can hear every word people say to them, and I was under a lot of stress and I really wanted to get it out –"

She held up a hand to stop him. "I understand," Alma said softly. "Look, you're right, okay? Everything you said was true. House, I just wanted to say that I'm going to try to change. Starting with the alcohol. But I need you to do something for me, okay? Are you listening?" House nodded. She took a deep breath, then said, "I need you to take care of Julia. I've been trying for the past nineteen years and there's something that's missing between us. I can't figure out what it is. The love is there, but…well, something's missing," she finished lamely. "Maybe I'll get it back as I grow up, learn how to take care of myself. But House, she's so much like you. I can't help but think that maybe _you_ have something I don't. Maybe you can make up for the childhood she missed out on."

House cleared his throat. "Alma," he said, "I'm new to this. I might screw it up in ways you never would have thought possible. Are you sure I won't make it worse?"

"She loves you," Alma insisted. "And I think you love her too. You don't have to admit it to me, but if you keep her in the dark, I will make you pay for it. She's never had a father, Greg; she won't know if she's missing out on anything." Alma smiled sadly. "You need each other, you know."

House shook his head. "I never expected to, but you're right, you know that?" House sat down in the chair Julia had occupied moments ago.

"Tell me the truth," Alma said. "How quickly will she die?"

"Without anything to help her immune system fight off infection, it could be a matter of weeks or months before it happens," House mumbled, not wanting to face the grim reality. He knew the days would fly by, and before he know it, the strange but wonderful creature that was his daughter would be nothing but a memory.

Alma nodded, biting her lip. "Okay. I don't want you to do this if you don't want to, but I know it would mean so much to me."

"What about her?" House asked, laughing humorlessly. "You ever consider that she might not want to spend the last few months of her life trying to connect with a loser like me?"

"You might not know it, but she already has connected with you," Alma said. "And she thinks you're anything but a loser."

"Thank-you." They locked eyes for a moment and communicated everything they couldn't put into words: apologies, promises, and…affection? Maybe not, but something like it. House stood up and went to the door. Before it closed, he heard Alma add something that would give him strength until the end.

"We both do."

* * *

Julia strolled through the parking lot, rubbing her arms. It was August, and she didn't understand why, but she was freezing. Goosebumps had taken over her skin and her thin t-shirt did nothing to keep her warm.

"Chilly?" said a voice behind her.

Julia spun around, knocking into the car behind her. The alarm sounded shrilly and she gasped. "Dr. Wilson," she said. "Ummm…sorry." _Oh, God. I knew it wasn't a bright idea to go walking around in a parking lot at night, but I never expected to get accosted by someone I knew!_

He turned off the alarm and threw his briefcase in the passenger seat. "Going to see your mom?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I already did," she told him. "She wanted to talk to House."

Wilson nodded. "I see."

Silence hung in the air, suffocating them, and what was still unspoken stood between them, refusing to go away. Julia didn't want him to say anything about it; it would be so much easier to pretend it never happened. Alas, he probably needed that thing called closure.

"Wilson," she said. "We need to talk, don't we?"

"Yeah, we do," he admitted. "The question is, about what?"

She arched an eyebrow. Wasn't it obvious? "You tell me."

"Anything and everything, if you want the naked truth," Wilson replied. "The most obvious thing being the…ummm…"

"Shall we refer to is as 'The Incident' and move on with our lives?"

He smiled. "Good word for it. Yes, we have to talk about 'The Incident,' and your diagnosis, and your mom, and House, and Chase, and –"

"What makes you think we need to discuss all of these other things?" Julia asked him. "Because aside from The Incident and my diagnosis, everything you've said is between me and other people."

"I thought we were heading towards the same thing: a repaired friendship," Wilson said. "Friends share everything – every burden, every sorrow, every trouble."

"Friends should learn to mind their own business," Julia snapped. She slowly regained her composure and remembered how sometimes, words can hurt. "Sorry," she said, embarrassed. "Sensitive subjects. You understand." A statement, not a question.

"Yeah." Wilson paused. "Alright, let's have it out. You can start."

"Ladies first, is that it?" Julia smiled. "Okay. Ummm…why?"

"Why what?"

She glared at him. "Are you trying to piss me off, because you're doing a really good job of it."

"Sorry," Wilson said. "Ummm…why?...That's a good question. I don't know if I know why. There's no single reason, I can tell you that much. I don't know, a combination of things – you and how we met and it felt like we'd known each other for years, House constantly taking all the good people in his life for granted, Julie and how we're barely speaking these days, opportunity, boredom, stress –"

"I get the picture," Julia said, smiling. "So at least you're not as spontaneous as you seem to be. Anything make you want to _not_ participate in The Incident?"

"Fear, of you, of House, and of losing my job," Wilson said. "Little strands of loyalty I still have intact for my wife. Ummm…the fact that you were sick and we didn't know what it was."

"Is it any better now that you know?"

"Makes it worse," Wilson told her. "For the record, I'm still sorry."

"Me too," Julia said. "I can't help being so attractive, you know. Must be in my genetics."

Wilson burst out laughing. "Oh yeah, you and House are masters of seduction. You should start a business."

"I'm not what I was a few days ago," Julia reminded him. "So…is The Incident resolved?"

"It's up to you."

Julia took a deep breath, not ready to let him stop suffering. _Let it go_, she told herself. _It's over, he's sorry, and he's not going to do it again._ "Yeah. It's resolved."

"Good."

"What's next on your list, Jimmy?" Julia asked, attempting to keep the conversation flowing. Maybe it would erase the feeling of regret she had behind her.

"Your diagnosis."

"Oh, that. I have AIDS, and it wasn't my fault. I just want you to know that."

"I know," Wilson said. "House told me. About…you know…"

Julia's eyes widened in shock, then narrowed in anger. "Jerk," she muttered. "I don't get it! What else has he told you about me, huh? Since when does he get to go spreading my business around? I told him that in confidence, and that's how it should have stayed. He's known me for all of a week, and he thinks he gets to discuss every detail about me? I bet if he'd known me when I was a baby, he'd be one of those dads that buzzed it around town every time I wet my diaper. Unbelievable."

"Julia, I am – _was_ his best friend," he said helplessly. "Confidence sometimes means it's just between you and me and whoever you trust to tell. For him, that was me."

"Oh, yeah? And who'd you trust to tell, huh? Who else knows I'm not even strong enough to prevent…you know, _that_ from happening?" Julia was shaking from all kinds of unpleasant emotions. _I just can't win with these men_, she thought.

"I haven't told anyone," Wilson said. "I might be a little dense, but I have some sense of propriety about me, you know."

She nodded, willing to accept this answer. "Good. Anything else you'd like to ask me before I go and kill my father?" She stopped suddenly. "Wait…why is he mad at _you_?"

Wilson squinted at her. "He didn't tell you?"

"No. Tell me what?"

"Oh, God," Wilson said, feeling sick. "You see, Julia, I didn't know you lied for me that night, and I kind of slipped up during a conversation. House got pretty mad at me, which is totally understandable. Frankly, I would have been worried if he _didn't _do what he did…"

"Which was what?" Julia asked furiously.

Wilson took a deep breath. "He punched me in the face," he mumbled.

"He _what_?"

"Julia, he had every right to do it –"

"He _punched_ you? He outed me and then he _punched _you?" Julia felt faint, only on her feet because of the power behind her anger. "Wilson, I am so sorry. I apologize for what he did. I don't know what to do with him…maybe a leash? Nah, he'd chew through it." She made a fist and began to punch it into her hand. "I say we give him a taste of his own medicine."

"Julia, I don't think that's a wise idea," Wilson told her anxiously. "He's a got a cane, and you don't know how strong he really is, and –"

"He wouldn't fight back, not against me," she assured him. "Not against his daughter, not against someone who's _right_!"

"Julia –"

She frowned. Wilson's lips hadn't moved and that wasn't Wilson's voice. She turned around slowly and glared at her father.

"What are you doing out here?" He narrowed his eyes as he saw who his daughter was keeping company with. "Is he giving you trouble?"

She took a swing at his face. House saw it just in time and grabbed her wrist to keep her fist from connecting with his mandible. Julia swung her other hand at his face, desperately wanting to at least slap him before he put her in her place, but he blocked that one too. "What the hell is wrong with you?" she screamed. "You _told_ him about…you know…and then you _hit_ him? Are you _insane_?"

House glared at Wilson. "You told her about us?"

Wilson couldn't help but smile; that was a bad choice of wording. "We're repairing our friendship," he admitted. "I thought I'd finish things in the order I started them."

"I'll show you how to repair your friendship," House began, letting go of Julia. He started towards Wilson.

Julia grabbed his arm and yanked him backward, almost forcing him off his feet. "Don't you dare," she warned him.

House rolled his eyes. "I don't know what you're suggesting I'm going to do, but I assure you, this isn't going to be a physical fight. Me? Violent? Tsk, tsk. How could you think something like that?" He ignored her weary look and turned back to Wilson. "Would you like to explain this?"

"I'm sorry," Wilson said again. "I apologized profusely for what I did, I was forgiven –" he looked to Julia for approval, and she nodded – "and we started talking about…other things."

"What a coincidence, that these 'other things' end up being the only kinds of conversation that will get me in trouble," House commented dryly. "Trying to poison my own daughter against me, Wilson?"

"You don't need any help from him," Julia muttered.

"You know what?" House fumed. "I might not know everything there is to being a good father, but I said and did what I had to do to defend your honor and reputation."

"Have you considered that I don't need your help?"

"Then why did you come looking for me?"

Julia couldn't answer that; she only stared at House blankly, her eyes expressive yet unreadable.

"House, I'm sorry," Wilson tried. "I really am. Look, I give up, okay? I was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong! I screwed up. Contrary to popular belief, losing my best friend hasn't been all fun and games, okay? I miss you! I miss all the stupid yet incredibly smart things you say, I miss your jokes, I miss that look you give me when I fall off the marriage wagon –"

"You make it sound like we had some kind of kinky romantic thing going on," House muttered. "I don't swing that way, and I was under the impression you didn't either."

"I'm not like you!" Wilson said. "I'm not a robot! I'm not the most sensitive man you'll ever meet –"

"You can say that again," Julia murmured, amused by the thought, hoping it might take some of the edge off of the conversation.

Wilson shot her a dirty look "As I was saying, I'm not the most sensitive man in the world, but I'm not afraid to admit when I'm wrong. I'm not like you."

"Are you calling me emotionless?"

"You be the judge," Wilson told him. "I've done my part; the ball's in your court now. Julia, I've got to go. My wife is at home waiting for me with swatches for our new dining room curtains. We're kind of bonding. Thanks for the advice."

Julia grinned. "Anytime," she said, waving as she pushed House out of the way. Wilson got into his car and drove away.

"Advice?" House repeated. "What are you, Dear Abby?"

"Nice try, but I'm still mad at you."

"May I ask why?"

"He's trying his best, House. Things always get worse before they get better."

He noticed, with regret, that she had called him House. _Play offensively, just like in football,_ he reminded himself. "So I've been demoted to House again, huh? What happened to Dad?"

"I don't know," she said, truly surprised that she had reverted to his last name. "But that's not the point."

"Are you going to make me miserable for this?" House asked regretfully. "I'm letting you stay in my apartment. That's gotta count for something."

Julia, not thinking, said, "Maybe I should go home."

House raised both eyebrows. "Have I really screwed things up that badly?"

Julia thought, then shook her head tiredly. "No, but you're getting there. Anything else I should know about before we go back home?"

He considered the question, then said, "I don't like MTV; therefore, you will not be taking advantage of my cable if that's all you're going to watch."

Julia burst out laughing, giving up the charade. As frequently irritating as he could be, it was impossible to stay mad at him. "Fine," she acquiesced as they walked to House's car. "You're not off the hook yet, Dad, but you're getting there."

* * *

You like, or no? That was chapter 21; I know you're getting so tired of pulling together reviews, but maybe you could manage for just a few more chapters? This is almost done, I swear it! Also, voting for a sequel is now open! Should there be one, yes or no? It may affect how I end this story. Thanks for reading! 


	22. Cleaning House

Wowwwwww, I've got reviews coming out of my ears! That's pretty sweet, in my opinion. Anyways, just wanting to respond to a few things in depth, but I'd like to say to everyone that I so appreciate that you've been reading and reviewing faithfully! When my inbox is filled with your thoughts, it brings tears of joy to my eyes. Okay, maybe I'm not quite that pathetic, but you get the picture.

**Iscariot:** I went back, re-read the chapter with your thoughts in mind, and I must admit that you're correct on all counts. A little too commonly worded, definitely. What can I say, emotions are hard to describe, but I want to sound anything but ordinary. I will keep your advice in mind for future chapters and stories, and I appreciate that you're being real with me about this. One question: am I entirely destroying the very essence of the characters, or is it just some of the dialogue that's throwing the story off? I gather that I go very out of character sometimes, and I'd really like to know if you think so too. Thanks for everything!  
**Reitashnehelena:** I'm sorry, I've never heard of any of those shows that you say Jesse Spencer was on – they must be on WB. Haha, sorry, either that or they're soap operas. I don't think anything could ruin him for me, but you never know…  
**Queen of Blank: **LOL, okay, let's send Jesse Spencer a letter and inform him of our arrangement. Coin toss to see who gets him first! I call heads. Also, my dad keeps asking me to drive him places, and I know one of these days I'm gonna have to say yes. I'm trying to learn as much as I can from my mom, but she's terrified to get in the car with me behind the wheel. (I can't be sure, but I don't think I'm quite that bad.) Oyyy, the search for the ultimate driving teacher never ends!  
**Amber Chase:** (Sigh) No more chapters for a while? But you're gonna need something to do once you're back in classes! LOL, just kidding, be a better student than I am and actually pay attention during class! I will be good and wait patiently. You go back to school EARLY! I feel bad for you; I don't go until the…29th? I think…  
**Mollisk:** You know, I don't understand myself. I've never really liked any of the women on the show for a romance with his character, and yet I can manage to let myself get bulldozed into writing something for House and Cameron because people like it. Something to remember for future stories, but I'm glad I could make you enjoy it for a second! I've got to finish this one up the way I started it, but hopefully next time I won't be swayed like that.  
**Thermy: **Yay, you're back! Haha, glad you enjoyed the whole dingo-hunting, horse-back riding, marshmallow-roasting thing! Haha, I really have no idea what's fun to do in the fair continent of Australia, but I'm sure it's much more exciting than what America has to offer. I will gladly accept medical bills. :P Anyways, it's okay to think Hugh Laurie is hot; I'm 16 and find the man irresistible.

Wow, okay, I turned into a real chatterbox this time around, when I really should be writing something. I think I've got the rest of the chapters figured out. I'm going to wait quite some time to post this (at least two days, I think – gasp!) because I want to make sure it's quality work and not just timely. Anyways, as always, thank-you for reading. Chapter 22…

* * *

House woke up three minutes before his alarm clock had to do the job for him. He fumbled through his morning routine, awake but nonetheless groggy. He started some coffee and began to flip through the morning paper.

Julia woke up a half an hour later, shuffling into the kitchen noisily. "Morning," she said as she began to load sugar and milk into a mug. House smiled to himself as he watched her try to fit a few drops of coffee into the already-full cup. _I'll bet she complains it's cold now,_ he thought.

She sipped the mixture and sighed contentedly as she sat down at the table with him. "So," she said brightly. "What are you going to do today? You have to work?"

"Surprisingly, the good Dr. Cuddy has given me a few days off, so no, I don't have to work," House informed her. "Not to mention, it's Saturday."

"Good!" she said, clapping her hands. "That means we can clean your apartment!"

He blinked. "Excuse me?"

"It's not gonna be that hard, I promise," she told him. "A little dusting, some dish-washing, laundry, closet-cleaning and organizing – nothing fancy. You have a vacuum somewhere, right?"

"I just remembered," House said nervously. "I have to…ummm…I have to…Talk with Wilson!"

Julia rolled her eyes. "Is that so?"

"Yeah," he said. "We're…ummm…making up."

She stared at him for a moment, thinking that was the most pathetic lie she'd ever heard. Who goes around scheduling times to make up with someone? "I see," she said slowly. "See that you do. Don't screw it up, okay?"

"I never screw up," House told her, downing the rest of his coffee. "But don't let that stop you from cleaning. If it brings you joy, I say go for it! Please, by all means, disinfect the place silly! Tidy up, sanitize, unclutter – however you want to say it."

"I think this is what we call a 'Clean Sweep,'" Julia said, grinning as she referenced the show from TLC that was famous for creating attractive, functional spaces that people could use and enjoy from virtual storage warehouses. "Alright, if you insist. But nothing's getting you out of grocery shopping."

House rolled his eyes as he kissed the top of her head. It was the weirdest thing he'd ever done, but it seemed right for the moment. "See you later," he said. "Take it easy, and I'm only a phone call away if you start to feel sick."

Julia sighed. "It's gonna happen at some point, Dad. Sooner or later, we've got to get used to it."

"Sorry," he said. "It might not be as hard for you to accept, but I'm still just a little apprehensive about the fact that my daughter's going to die someday. I don't think I can get used to it."

She smiled sympathetically. "I'll stick around as long as I can," she promised, wondering if her words were empty.

"Thanks," House said as he walked out the door. "Bye, Julia."

Julia looked around at the kitchen, then into the dining room and living room area. She'd already seen the state of disarray in the spare room she was using and the hall bathroom, and wasn't at all eager to enter House's forbidden territory. She sighed; it was going to be a long day.

Her eyes caught the telephone, and she grinned. _No reason why I shouldn't have a little fun,_ she thought as she picked it up.

* * *

House flipped out his cell phone and dialed Wilson's number as he walked down to his car. "James Wilson speaking," he answered, sounding dry and professional.

"Hey, moron, it's me," House said.

Wilson hesitated, and House could picture the expression on his face. "Well, this is an improvement," he remarked dryly. "How may I help you, Dr. House?"

"Julia's forcing me to have a civil conversation with you," he lied. "How fast can you get away from Julie and the decorating nightmare?"

"It's not a nightmare; I'm actually kind of having fun."

"Answer the question."

"Noon."

"Good. Meet me then at McDonald's. We're gonna resolve this thing."

"Fantastic," Wilson said. "I'm waiting breathlessly." House thought he detected a hint of sarcasm in his voice as he hung up.

_Perfect,_ he thought as he dialed Cameron. "Hey, lady," he said.

"Dr. House," she said, sounding surprised. "How are you?"

"Doesn't matter," he replied, thinking that was the most boring question he'd ever heard. "Look, about last night –"

"Yes, we need to talk about that," Cameron began.

"No, we don't," House told her. "You're not gonna believe this, but today I'm only feeling slightly regretful that I allowed myself to get caught up in a situation like that. Maybe we'll only go back one space instead of two. What do you say?"

"What does that mean?" she asked. "I hate it when you talk in code like that."

"It means we're not going back to the way things were, but they're not staying the way they are right now either," he said impatiently. "You're wasting my cell phone minutes. I'll talk to you later." For the umpteenth time, he felt like a real jerk, but hell, he was merely saving Cameron from the same feeling, which she would surely get if he got monster overage charges on his next bill and it was all her fault.

_Bad things come in threes_, he thought as he drove to the nearest grocery store, deciding he might as well get the experience over with. _I've called Wilson and Cameron. Who else's day do I need to ruin?_ He snapped his fingers as an idea occurred to him. _Chase! Of course!_ He dialed Chase's number and held the phone to his ear, mindful of the police officer cruising down the other side of the road as he did so.

"Robert Chase speaking," he answered.

"Hey, loser," House said, wondering why he was calling people names today. Normally, a few sarcastic comments were enough to tide him over. "I need to discuss something with you."

"Well, I'm kind of busy right now," he told him. "It's Saturday, remember? Some of us have a social life. We hang out with other people and have fun with them. You should try it sometime."

"Feeling bold because I let you kiss my daughter, Chase?" House asked. "That's exactly what we need to talk about. And who is this 'other people' you plan on 'hanging out and having fun with,' huh? Bet I could tell you."

He heard Chase swallow. "You didn't know? I thought…"

"Thought what?"

"Julia asked me to come by your apartment," he confessed. "She said she needed help with something."

"Oh," House said. "That. She's got it into her head that my apartment needs cleaning. The girl's crazy, I tell you, but hell, if it means I don't have to bother with it, I'm okay. Don't let her throw any of my knickknacks away, understand?"

"Ummm…" Chase stammered. House could tell he was having second thoughts about stopping by.

"I can see that the situation is dire already," House interrupted. "You've said enough. Where are you right now?"

"About thirty seconds from your parking garage."

"Stop there and wait. If you go in, I'll pop every last tire on your car. I'll be there in three minutes." He hung up, tossed the phone onto the passenger seat, and made a sloppy u-turn as he headed back to his apartment.

Chase was waiting when he got there. He was leaning nervously against his car, seeming as out of place as a fish out of water. "House, what's this all about?" he asked, eyeing his cane nervously as he came towards him.

They ended up nose to nose, glaring at each other, leaving Chase with no choice but to fight back should House decide to get violent. There was no escape path.

"Listen," he growled. "You might think this is all fun and games, but if you break my little girl's heart, I will hunt you down like a dog. I will rip your heart out with my bare hands and throw it on the floor and stomp on it until you die. I will hang your bloodied entrails on my balcony so that all young men like you know not to make the same mistakes that you did. What I am telling you, in simple words for your simple mind, is this: Do not make her cry. Do not make her angry. Do not make her confused. Do not make her bitter. You will regret it. Understand?"

Chase nodded fervently. "I have no intention of doing any of those things, Mr. House," he said, amazed at how terrified he was of the man. He'd gone from slightly scary employer to terrifying father of the girl he was seeing just like that. He was vaguely reminded of Robert De Niro in _Meet The Parents_, although he considered De Niro significantly less frightening.

"If you are feeling the least bit doubtful about putting yourself in harm's way like this, I will allow you to call Julia now and tell her that you can't make it," House told him. "Then I will proceed to beat you within an inch of your life. But I assure you, it will be healthier for you in the long run to accept this offer now rather than lie to me and tell me that you are willing to run the risk of breaking Julia's heart."

"I understand," Chase said, scarcely able to breath. "Thanks for the offer, but I don't feel I need to take it. Really, House, I'm not gonna break her heart. I give you my solemn promise."

"I mean it, Robert Chase," House fumed. "If I find out that Julia is less than ecstatic to know you, you will spend the rest of your life, which will only last about five minutes, in fear of me. Have I scared you?"

Chase nodded.

"Good. Now you two have fun." House got back into his car and drove off to Safeway.

After five minutes Chase had been brave enough to go up and knock on Julia's door. She, having no idea what the poor man had just been through, welcomed him in immediately. She first offered him the only decent food she could find in the pantry, which was a half-bag of potato chips and some unopened French onion dip. He politely declined, and she put him to work checking expiration dates on everything in the refrigerator while she started scrubbing the floor. "Aren't you glad you stopped by?" she asked, grinning.

"Oh yeah," he said, wrinkling his nose at some cheese that was beginning to turn an remarkable shade of blue. "This is great fun."

"Do I hear sarcasm, Rob?" Julia asked.

"No way," he replied, tossing the cheese into the garbage can. "Me? Sarcastic? Never." He began to inspect some stalks of celery. "How does he live like this? It's unhealthy."

Julia shrugged. "I don't know. You wouldn't have thought someone so picky would let the place go like this."

"He's lucky you came along," Chase told her as he decided the celery would be good for another day or two. "He needs a keeper."

"He _needs_ to learn to be self-sufficient," Julia corrected him, crawling towards the cabinet under the sink to get some more soap for her mop bucket. "Although it could be worse…" She screamed suddenly and launched herself backwards, crashing into the leg of the table.

"What's wrong?" Chase asked, alarmed. He jumped away from the fridge, sidled up next to her, and gave her a perplexed look. She pointed at the cabinet. "Oh my God…" he said. Baby mice were scurrying around inside of it, trying to avoid the light.

"I can do bugs, and I can do reptiles. But I absolutely abhor rodents," she said, feeling faint.

Chase began to laugh. "Figures, the one parasitic creature he'd have in his kitchen would be the one you hate. Poor Julia," he said, patting her back as he moved to shut the door. "Give him a call and tell him to pick up some mouse traps while he's out. I have a feeling they're breeding, though, from the looks of things. You may want to call an exterminator."

Julia nodded slowly, eyeing the cabinet as if it might suddenly explode and out would come the mother of all mice, looking dirty and menacing as hell. "Okay," she said. "Ummm, how about if we give the kitchen a break and move onto the bathroom?"

* * *

House had all of his groceries piled in the backseat of his car, perilously close to obstructing the view of his rearview mirror. He pulled into the McDonald's parking lot, not particularly desiring anything to eat at the moment. He'd seen quite enough of food for the day. House parked and shuffled into the greasy atmosphere of the restaurant frequented by masses of ignorant people that had no idea what kinds of crap went into those French fries. He looked around for Wilson and saw him in a table by the door to the playground. He sighed, hoping he wouldn't scare any of the little children.

"Let's make this fast," Wilson said. "I promised Julie I'd pick her up some things at the Safeway before I came home."

"I get the picture," House said irritably. "You're happily married now. Whoopee. Kindly be sensitive to those of us that haven't quite reached that level."

"You're the one who asked me to come," Wilson pointed out. "If you're going to act like everything's my fault, I have better things to do. So get on with it."

"Okay, okay, okay. You're so damn pushy," House said, trying to buy himself time. Mostly, he'd just wanted to have his friend back and forget anything had ever happened, but Wilson wasn't playing along. He had to act like he had something meaningful to say, and House knew he wasn't very good at that. "Okay, ummm…maybe I let my anger get the best of me that day. Maybe I shouldn't have hit you as hard as I did, or yelled as loud as I did, or said some of the things I did. You were wrong to do it, Jimmy, but maybe I wasn't right either."

"You can say that again," Wilson scoffed.

House glared at him. "You know, I don't do this very often. Perhaps it wouldn't kill you to be a little more discreet in your amusement." Wilson become appropriately somber. "Anyway, I'm…sorry, I guess. Specifically, for splitting your lip and…that's it."

"Apology accepted," he said, feeling like he could breath again. "And in case you've had a memory lapse and can't remember, I'm sorry too."

"It's cool," House said. Wilson eyed him warily. "I picked it up from Julia. She says weird things like that all the time. And, contrary to your consensus, she doesn't think I'm a sweet dad. What's up with that?"

"She doesn't know it, House, but you're epitome of sweet," Wilson said, hiding a smile. "If you were my dad –"

"And thank God I'm not," House interrupted. _See, it could always be worse,_ he told himself. "If I was…oh, boy. I'm not sure I want to go down this line of conversation."

"Good choice," Wilson said. "Say, where have you been for the past few days? I haven't seen you at the hospital."

"Cuddy gave me a few days off," House informed him. "She said she thought I needed it. She said she had been worried for a minute that I might give her the same treatment I gave you…care to explain?"

Wilson rolled his eyes. "I said I was sorry!" he said. "What more do you want?"

"You're right," House said. "I'm…not going to say that word that begins with an 'S,' ends with a 'Y,' and has 'O-R-R' in between. I loathe that word. I detest it. Can't we just talk about something that won't provoke unwarranted apologies?"

"That might take a while," Wilson said. "So…we're, ummm, we're cool, right?"

"We're pretty sweet," House said.

"Julia's going to get so mad at you if she realizes you're trying to pick up her lingo," Wilson said, squirming uncomfortably in the hard, sticky seat. "Look, don't get me wrong, I'd love to hang out with you, but this is not the ideal place for it and I'm running short on time. Maybe tomorrow, while Julie goes to church and gives our family a good name."

"Sounds like a plan," House agreed, and they both got up to go outside. When House got to his car, he noticed a strange pink substance coming out of the crack of the trunk. "Wilson," he said. "What is that?"

"I don't know," he replied, running a finger through it. "Sticky. Smells like fruit." He reluctantly licked his finger. "Tastes like…strawberry ice cream?"

House donned a sheepish smile. "Oops."

Wilson popped the trunk and stared in amazement at the items in the car. "House, you never cease to amaze me," he told him, stunned. "You went grocery shopping before meeting me, entirely forgetting that cold things melt and spoil in the heat?"

"What can I say? I haven't been to a grocery store in a long time," House said defensively. "So I take it we _won't_ be having my soon-to-be famous homemade smoothies tonight for dessert?"

_Keep it together, Wilson._ "Not with this stuff, you won't," he said, taking the melted ice cream carton to a nearby trash can. "Are there any other perishables that might have already bitten the dust while you were sitting in the McDonald's picking your nose?"

House considered the question. "Vanilla ice cream, chocolate ice cream, frozen yogurt, regular yogurt, neopolitan ice cream in case we ran out of the rest, eggs, Pillsbury cinnamon buns, and milk."

"Christ, House, you're a walking dairy disaster!" Wilson exclaimed as he picked through the bags. "It's over ninety degrees out here! You'll be lucky if anything's okay at this point! Let's see…the eggs are alright…the milk is almost boiling…the cinnamon buns exploded all over your back window…ugh. You might want to have this carpet professionally cleaned."

House sighed. "This homemaking stuff is hard work," he commented. "Care to walk me through this whole shopping thing? You said you had to go by the Safeway anyway."

Wilson mentally crossed himself, feeling the situation warranted a little extra security. "I don't know if I'm ready for this," he said. "I'll meet you there in ten minutes."

* * *

So I woke up this morning and discovered I have a huge bruise on my arm from sitting in the same position in front of the computer all day, typing and clicking the mouse and staring at the screen. I seriously need a hobby, like collecting rocks or…something. I need to get some fresh air, catch a few rays while the sun's still shining for the summer, be more social. (Shiver) Scary thought. But anyways, I hope that was to your liking. Even if you loathed and detested it, I'd like to hear it in a review rather than have to figure it out for myself from the silence! Thanks for reading! 


	23. One Last Secret

Wow, I think this is the longest I've been between updates since I started this story. That must mean that somehow, I'm getting a life, which is certainly cause for celebration. I see this story as stretching for three, possibly four more chapters, but not much longer than that. If I get past thirty, I'm going to pull a "then suddenly a meteor hit the earth and they all died" number, because I'm getting the feeling I talk too much, and this is the proof I need.

This may or may not surprise you, but I don't own "House, MD."

Here's chapter 23! Not the best I've ever written, but not the worst either, in my oh-so-humble opinion. But I'll let you be the judge of that.

* * *

House returned home after another hour spent retracing his steps through the freezing aisles of Safeway, Wilson on his heels as they attempted to replace every melted and spoiled item. He found Julia and Chase having a water gun fight.

"What's this?" he asked, wondering what the hell went on when he wasn't at home. "Young lady, I'd like to hear what you have to say about this compromising situation we find ourselves in. Not to mention where you got water guns."

"Ummm," she said slowly. "We…got sidetracked?"

"I can see that," House commented dryly, stepping over the mess of cleaning supplies on his floor with an armful of groceries – a difficult maneuver when one has a bad leg. "Well, being the good father that I am, I went to the grocery store, and I brought home all kinds of goodies for you and your undeserving little friend to enjoy. It would be nice if you could help me bring up the remaining bags."

Julia and Chase agreed and went to his car to get the last of the groceries. "Is it just me or does it smell like boiling strawberry ice cream in the trunk?" Chase asked as he slammed the lid shut.

Julia shook her head. "Who knows what kinds of things the man had in here," she said.

They got into the elevator and went up to House's apartment. When they entered, they found him sniffing a bottle of Lemon Pledge.

"Checking to see if it's fresh," he said sheepishly.

"Mm-hmm," Julia replied, grinning. "Meaning you think it's the most heavenly scent ever. This place could always smell like lemons if you'd dust every now and then."

House resolved to do so, and then the phone rang. "Hello," he said.

"Hi, Greg," Alma said nervously.

"Alma," House said. "How are you? Do you want to talk to Julia? She's right here. She's got company, but he'll live while she takes the phone for a minute."

"Actually, I was calling for you," Alma replied. "I need some help."

House began to swing his cane back and forth, a habit he'd developed lately that showed his anxiety. "With what?"

"I'd like you to drive me down to the jail so I can see Len," she said. "I could get Julia to drive me if you'd rather not, but I'm not sure she wants to see him."

"I can't imagine anybody who _wouldn't_ want to see that psychopath behind bars," House told her. "But I can do that. What time would you like me to come by?"

"As soon as possible."

"I'll meet you are your house in a half an hour." House hung up and told Julia where he was going. He motioned at Chase to join him privately in his room while he found a jacket that didn't have melted ice cream all over the sleeves. "How's it going?"

"Very well, thank-you," he replied stiffly.

"Naturally I'm referring to the fact that you're obviously wooing my daughter," House said. "Is she playing hard-to-get? Is she collapsing under your flattery like a ton of bricks? Or is she somewhere in between?"

"I'm not wooing her!" Chase exploded. "We're friends. Very good friends."

"Very good friends, indeed," House huffed as he raided his closet. "That explains why there are stars in her eyes and she goes around singing 'I Feel Pretty' all the time."

Chase's eyes widened. "She does that? Over me?"

"No, but she might start any day now, thanks to you," House said. "Want to back down yet?"

He shook his head. "This may surprise you, House, but I actually believe Julia when she says she likes me. You should try believing it too, and while you're at it, you might take me at my word."

"Right," House said. "You're being honest, and I'm the queen of England."

Chase rolled his eyes. "I guess I'll have to show you by example."

House chuckled as he slammed the door shut. He heard Julia asking him what was wrong. Chase struggled to make up a lie and did not succeed. He was certain he was going to hear about this later. "Show me by example, huh?" he repeated. "That'll be the day."

* * *

House arrived at Alma's house on time. They drove in silence for a while before he asked her how her "change" was going.

"It's been hard," she replied. "Much more painful than I'd originally anticipated. But it's worth it."

"That's good," he said, and they were silent again.

They got to the jail where Len was being held (with bail, of course, but it was left unpaid). House glanced at Alma and said, "This is as far as I go. If you want any more distance out of me, you're going to have to ask."

She shook her head. "You can wait here. I've been waiting to do this for a long time." Alma stood up and went in. She filled out some forms, waited for ten minutes, then was taken to a chair in front of a glass barrier. Across from her was an identical cubicle. Len came and sat down there, and she was shocked to see how different he looked. Both eyes were black, he looked thinner and pale, and his eyes seemed to belong to someone older and much more tired than he used to appear. The idea filled her with power. She picked up the phone and said, "Hey there, sweetie."

"I'm sorry," he replied immediately. "I went too far. It's just that that bitch daughter of yours is always lying –"

"She has a name, you know," Alma said irritably. "A name and a personality and a life. And in fact, so do I. None of those things agree with you, I'm afraid. I've come to say good-bye."

"What are you talking about? Soon as I get out of here, we'll be back together. Nothing's gonna change, Alma."

She breathed deeply. "You just keep telling yourself that. Look, here's how it's gonna go down: you're going to trial for domestic abuse. The prosecution will win. You get swept off to prison, and Julia and I live happy lives without you. Sound good?"

"What about when I get out, huh? You ever considered you won't be able to resist coming back to me again? It happens the same way every time. Hard habit to break, I know," Len laughed, his voice low and dangerous.

"Hard, yes, but not impossible. I've already started. For instance, notice something different about me?"

Len stared at her. "You're not shaking?" he guessed finally.

"That's right," Alma said, nodding. "At least, not from the alcohol. Withdrawal's a bitch, but it's better than living with a failing liver."

"Failing liver? What the hell?"

She nodded again. "I'm very lucky. A combination of medical science and good people managed to get me a second chance at life, otherwise I wouldn't be here right now. You really think I want to waste the time I've got left on you?"

"Why not? You've had eighteen years with me to leave, and you haven't. You're telling me you're gonna do it now?"

"Exactly," Alma said, smiling frigidly at him. "I wish I could say it's been fun, but…it hasn't. So that just leaves us with farewell. Have a nice life, Len." She stood up to leave, then turned back to him. "Oh, Julia had something she wanted to say to you too." Alma gave him the middle finger, then giggled at his shocked expression and all but skipped away. She met House before she even got to the door. "What are you doing in here?" she wanted to know.

"I've decided I couldn't help but visit that pathetic man, so I'm giving him a few minutes of my time," House told her. "I won't be long." He was taking to the cubicle where Alma had been sitting just seconds before, and smiled as he saw Len's annoyed face. "Hello, in there! How's life?"

"Who the fuck are you?" He squinted at him. "Are you that doctor from the hospital? The one I was gonna kill before the damn security goons showed up?"

"That's me," House said cheerfully. "You can call me 'Sir.' And now it's time to play the 'Who's the real father of Julia Peterson?' game." He watched as Len's expression turned from mad to confused. "Come on, now, you can do it. Concentrate…It's me! Can't you see the family resemblance?"

"You're kidding me, right?" Len said. "It's not possible."

"Oh, yeah, it's possible," House said. "Apparently we've both fallen prey to the same woman at some point during our lives. Small world, isn't it?" Len rolled his eyes and hung up the phone. "I'm not through with you yet! House shouted at him, drawing the attention of surrounding prisoners. "Don't you want to hear the diagnosis?"

Len slowly picked up the phone again. "It was nothing, wasn't it? She was just being a damn complainer, right?"

House blinked at him, wondering how he could be so insensitive. "She has AIDS."

"What?" Len exploded. "That little –"

"And you might like to know, it's your fault," House said. "You sick son of a bitch."

Len began to look human again. His face was white, his hands were trembling. "So that means I should get tested too, right? Just in case?"

House dropped the phone as realization dawned on him. "Oh…my…God…" he said. "What did you just say?"

"I mean, I never went too far," Len continued. "Her mother would have killed me if she found out, but sometimes I'd get a little too friendly. For Julia's taste, anyway."

House's voice dropped to a whisper. "Are you telling me that you molested my daughter?" he asked, venom dripping from every word. His knuckles were white, his face pressed to the glass as he stared into the eyes of the person he hated most.

"Well," Len said guiltily. "Ummm, yeah, I guess so."

House averted his gaze to the ground, his mind throbbing. _I'll kill him,_ he fumed inwardly. _I don't care how long it takes; I will kill him. _Somewhere in his thoughts, he saw Chase and was grateful that he had some sense of propriety about him. _Chase_ was allowed near Julia. _Len _would never get the chance again.

"You bastard!" House yelled, standing up and banging on the glass. "How could you do that? What's wrong with you?"

Alma was next to him in an instant. "Greg, calm down. What's wrong?"

"How could you not have noticed? How could you not have seen? He was abusing Julia!"

_I thought we had established that_, Alma thought, then she realized that what he was saying was meant on a whole other level. "He did _what_?"

"She didn't say anything? Not even once?" House asked. "She just took it silently?"

Alma was too much in shock to do anything. "Yes," she whispered.

"I hate you!" House screamed, looking for a way to get in at the man. "I'm going to kill you!"

Someone from security tapped him on the shoulder. "Sir, we're going to have to ask you to leave," he said, sounding almost bored.

"That man," he seethed, "is Satan."

"They all are," the guard said as he pushed Alma and House out the door.

After a minute, Alma asked him what he meant by saying that it was Len's fault that Julia had AIDS. He told her and had to hold her back to keep her from going in and causing another scene.

Later that week, they found out that Len was killed by his fellow inmates after they found out what he'd done. Neither of them felt anything for him.

* * *

"Boardwalk," Julia sang happily. "You owe me $50, Rob."

She was sitting on the floor of House's freshly cleansed apartment, celebrating with Chase, Cameron, and Foreman, who had come by to help.

He handed her a blue bill. "That's the third time I've landed there," he grumbled.

"At least you got doubles," Foreman pointed out.

"True," Chase acquiesced as he rolled again. "Five." He moved his piece to the Income Tax space. "Crap-in-a-can!" he yelled.

"That's a new one," Cameron commented as she took her turn. "Go to jail! I just got out!" She obediently put her piece, the thimble, on the jail space.

"My turn!" Foreman cried gleefully, rolling the dice. "Free parking. _Boring._"

Julia took the dice and rolled.

"Fourteen," Chase said.

She gave him a strange look. "No, _four_. The dice only go up to twelve."

"That's how much you owe me for landing on New York Avenue," he told her smugly. Cameron and Foreman laughed at her; her face turned red.

"I'm still going to kick your ass," she said.

"We'll just see about that," Chase replied as he picked up the dice and began to roll them around in his hand.

House opened the door and wandered wearily into the apartment. The frivolous spirit and joyful banter evacuated the room, and Julia and the ducklings wondered what it was that made him look so tired.

"Dad," Julia said, knowing it had to be something terrible that he didn't even comment on the two extra people in the apartment. "What's wrong?"

"I need to ask you something," he mumbled. "I'm going to have to ask you all to leave for the time being. You can finish the game tomorrow."

They all nodded, looking down as if they were kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar. "See you later, Julia," Foreman said. "Bye, guys."

"Bye, Julia," Chase said, embracing her, as that had become their custom pretty quickly. "Good luck."

"Thanks," she said.

Cameron glanced from her to House, who was standing over his piano, staring into space. "I'll call you later," she whispered, squeezing her hand. "Okay?"

"That would be great," Julia replied quietly, biting her lip. "Bye, Allison." When it was just her and House, she walked up behind him and asked, "What's wrong?"

"Why didn't you tell me about Len?" he asked in an unsteady voice.

Julia gulped, her worst fears confirmed. He knew. "I didn't want you to know," she said. "You know, it's hard, feeling like you can't defend yourself. Maybe you don't know what it's like, but I was practically born with that feeling. Nineteen years of constantly being taken advantage of doesn't dull it at all. I'm still just as ashamed of my weakness as I was when it first happened."

"Sometimes you have to choose between two kinds of shame," House told her. "One kind comes from asking for help. The other comes from remaining silent, bearing the pain, then having it ripped out of you anyway. Which is worse?"

She shut her eyes, fighting back tears. "The second one," she admitted. "But it's too late to change it now, okay? It doesn't do either of us any good to mull over the whole thing. Can we please just move on?"

"Okay," House said, turning to face her. "Any other surprises for me?"

Julia managed to smile. "No," she said. "I think you've found them all. Congratulations. The police should hire you as a scent dog. Those bloodhounds have nothing on you."

"I'm not much for being on my knees with my nose to the ground," House told her, grinning as he headed to the kitchen. "Are you up for some ice cream?"

Julia was about to reply, when they heard a knock at the door. House opened it and was surprised to see Cameron. "Missing me already?" he asked. "I could get you a snapshot of myself."

"Very funny," she said, pushing past him. "I left my keys on the table. Hi, Julia."

"You weren't eavesdropping, were you?" she asked suspiciously.

"Of course not," Cameron replied as she took the keys. "I'm on my way now."

"So what, you're gonna leave just like that?" House wanted to know. "We've got ice cream, and I even sprung for cones."

"I'd better not," she said coyly. "Thanks, though."

"Counting calories, or do you just not like us?" Julia asked.

"Neither," she replied. "I have work tomorrow."

"You weren't considering work when you got into the never-ending board game," House pointed out.

Cameron sighed and dropped her purse on the table. "Fine," she said hotly. "One scoop, vanilla ice cream, no toppings."

"Give her a sundae," Julia whispered loudly, then grinned innocently at Cameron, who rolled her eyes.

In short, one scoop turned into seconds, heavy on the sprinkles, seconds turned into thirds, thirds turned into, "I couldn't possibly have anymore, but a glass of water would be nice." When the moment was right, Julia snuck to her room and shut the door quietly as so not to disturb the possibilities cooking in the kitchen. House and Cameron didn't notice she was gone until 11:30 at night when she decided she had better go home.

"This was fun," Cameron admitted as House saw her to the door. "Fattening, but fun."

"I don't understand the constant worrying about fat," House said. "You're a rail, Julia's a rail, I'm not quite a rail, but hell, I've got muscle, so it doesn't matter."

Cameron giggled. "In my family, good metabolism ends the second you turn forty," she said. "I'm training myself to eat well now so I don't turn into an fat, ugly old lady."

"You'd be pretty even if you grew another head," House told her loyally. "In fact, you'd be twice as pretty. Trust me, you've got nothing to worry about."

"Well, thanks," she said, blushing.

"Aww, shucks, is this gonna be a repeat of the IHOP incident?" House asked. "And here I don't even have any Tic-Tacs on me."

"I thought we were friends," Cameron said. "You know, all that 'take one step back instead of two' stuff. Right?"

He shrugged. "We could be friends with benefits."

"Nice try," she said. "See you later, House."

"Bye, Allison." He shut the door, yawned, and went to bed, wondering how she could make him feel so elated and so desolate at the same time. That went for Julia as well as Cameron.

* * *

Wowwwwwww, I don't know what made me do _that_. (Shrugs) Next chapter is a leap into the future, so pull out your time machines! (When did I start sounding like a pre-school teacher?) Don't forget to review! Lots of love! Cara/house-of-insanity 


	24. Turkey Day

Thanks for the reviews, guys! As always, I'm relieved that you enjoyed the last chapter; if you're not happy, I'm not happy, so on and so forth. (My dog just ate a rubber band, for those of you that are interested.) I'm pleased with the general consensus: Len is lower than dirt and should throw himself off a cliff. He's a _foil_ (I learned that in sophomore English – it means a character created to be the polar opposite of another to accentuate their characteristics) for House, therefore proving that our favorite doctor _can_ be a good dad. I was just amazed I had the mind power to think of something like that, but I seem to have been fortunate enough to draw the attention of better writers than myself, so I won't bore them with my elementary discoveries.

I don't own "House, MD."

Now, onto "Turkey Day," more commonly known as chapter 24! For this chapter, I'd like you to remember that this is coming from someone who can mess up a can of Campbell's soup with no effort at all, so if I get some of my culinary procedures mixed up…be gentle. I've never prepared a Thanksgiving dinner before.

* * *

"Wake up, wake up, wake up!" Julia sang as she jumped onto House's bed. It was seven o'clock in the morning.

"It's too early," he grumbled, pulling the sheets over his head.

Julia yanked them off. "We're already behind schedule. We're never going to get this done if you don't get your butt in gear."

"Breakfast?" he asked sleepily. "Coffee?"

"All out on the table," she said, tugging at his arm impatiently. "Hurry up!"

"Were you always this pushy?" House wanted to know as he dragged himself out of bed.

"I hid it well, didn't I?" Julia said, smirking. "You have three minutes to pee, brush your teeth, and shower. You can eat breakfast as we go."

House took a good look at his daughter, and it saddened him. She was barely half of who she'd been when he'd met her, now pale and thin. She always looked tired and ready to collapse. He didn't know how she kept going. _One of these days_, he thought. The idea had been nagging him constantly, and it was getting harder to shove it out of his mind. "How long have you been up?" he asked suspiciously.

"Since five thirty," she admitted. "Come on! I've already got everything set up! It couldn't possibly get any easier!"

"Are you on crack?" House asked. "Five thirty? That means you've only had…" He did the calculations in his mind. "…five hours of sleep!"

"Four," she corrected him. "After you went to be, I stayed up and watched Nick at Night."

He groaned and wandered into the bathroom, taking five times the allotted amount of time for his activities. He came out to find Julia tapping her foot impatiently, though the effect of the gesture was more comical than menacing due to the fact that it was blanketed in a slipper shaped like a bunny. "You think it's funny to not be punctual?" she asked.

"What I think is funny is that you're so excited about a dead bird in the kitchen," he replied as he wandered down the hall to his breakfast. He sniffed the air. "Waffles?" he guessed.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," she said. "I couldn't resist breaking out your never-opened waffle iron. That baby can cook like nobody's business. I left yours on the table, steaming hot. The syrup's already there too. And coffee. Because of that little stunt you pulled in there, you only get 30 seconds to eat. I'm going to start washing the animal."

House eyed Julia as she walked to the sink and prepared to take on the turkey they had purchased the day before. He wasn't sure how the whole thing was going to go down, but he was fully prepared to make a run for it if the thing got up and started squawking at them. Judging from all the blood it still had going for it, he was almost sure it couldn't be completely dead…

Julia cut away the wrapper and dropped the meat in the sink. "It's certainly very fragrant," she commented as she rinsed it off. "What do we do after this?"

"What do _you_ do?" he reminded her. "You've cooked your own goose, if you'll pardon a pun."

"A very bad one," she said.

"I think you have to take out all of its internal organs," House told her decidedly.

Julia's face was nothing short of amusing; she looked shocked. "They leave those things in there?" she mouthed.

He shrugged. "They leave something in there."

She shook her head. "Absolutely not. There's no way I'm sticking my hands up that thing's ass."

"Don't tell me we're going to have nothing to serve when all the company gets here," House pleaded, hoping this constituted as motivation. "It would be a shame to have to feed everyone something from Boston Market because you let one little turkey's innards stand in the way."

Julia glared at the turkey, determined not to let it get the best of her. "Alright," she said. "Here goes. I'm gonna gut this animal like a fish." She closed her eyes and stuck one finger into the opening…and immediately pulled it back out. "No way am I gonna be able to do this," she whined.

"Wimp," House said accusingly as he wiped his mouth daintily with a napkin. He stood up and gently pushed her aside. "Watch and learn."

"Wow," Julia said admiringly as House began pulling unidentifiable objects from the turkey's inside. "You've done this before."

He shrugged modestly. "Once or twice."

"Now what?"

"Stuffing," he said. "Make some."

Julia obediently pulled a bowl of already-created stuffing from the refrigerator. "What, you didn't think got up early just to fix you breakfast, did you?" she asked when she caught House's surprised glance.

He shook his head. "You are one sad little girl," he told her as they began to shove stuffing into the brutalized turkey. "Anything else left to do with this poor bird before it's laid to rest?"

"Turkeys are stupid," Julia commented disdainfully. "They drown in the rain because they look up at the sky and get all the drops in their noses."

"I didn't know turkeys had noses," House said. "Could you answer the question?"

"Throw him in the oven," she replied energetically. "Let's cook this thing!"

House put the turkey in the oven and set it to four hundred degrees. "Now what?"

"We wait," she said, "until it's done. In the meantime, we ready ourselves." She danced off to the bathroom, singing "Summer Loving."

"It's almost December," House reminded her bitterly. "Therefore, I'm forced to assume that you _love_ a certain someone. And may I ask if that was all we're going to do?"

"Yes, I do love a certain someone," she replied happily. "His name is Gregory House, and he's my daddy, and he's not like other daddies that go around asking their little girls stupid questions about certain other someones they might happen to love. And yes, that's all we're doing at this moment, food-wise."

House was left open-mouthed. "Then why, may I ask, are we awake at 7:00 in the morning on a day I don't have to get up?"

"There are thousands of things that must be done that don't involve exploring the anatomy of farm animals with our fingers," she replied as she shut the door and continued to talk through the barrier as she started water running for her shower. "There is a list for you by your breakfast. I'll be out to help you in a few minutes."

"I think I accidentally wiped my face with it," House said, sighing in relief. He could go back to sleep.

"Set the table, vacuum the dining room, and dust everything," Julia commanded. "That should tide you over for a little while."

* * *

"What time did you say your mother would get here?" House asked Julia as he set a honey-baked ham on a platter. It was now one o'clock in the afternoon.

"Two," she said, busy chopping potatoes to dump in boiling water. She'd mash them up when they were warm enough. "Everyone else will be here by three and we can get on with the celebration." She gasped suddenly, dropping the knife. "Damn it," she muttered, rinsing off her finger.

"What's wrong?" House asked.

"I cut myself," she replied.

"Here, let me see it," he demanded.

"No!" she screamed, alarmed. She watched him pull back, bewildered. "I mean, no," she said more quietly. "I don't want you to touch it. It's not that deep." House went and got her a band-aid. She put it on and thanked him, then got back to the potatoes. "I got it all over the stupid potato too!" she groaned, tossing it into the trash can.

"Julia, don't worry about it," House began.

"Of course I have to worry about it!" she said. "My blood is the equivalent of liquid nitrogen: touch it and you're dead. I'd rather not go letting all the people I love ingest it. The idea makes me a little uneasy, you know?" Knowing that he couldn't argue with this, she got back to the potatoes.

After a minute, House cleared his throat and said, "Just so you know, none of us think of you as sick. In case you were worried, I mean. We hardly even notice."

"Oh, yeah," Julia scoffed. "That's why Robert touches me like I'm made of glass, Foreman is constantly asking me if I have any concerns, and Cameron and Dr. Cuddy are always making sure I'm eating. Even Mom's gone off the deep end with the over-mothering. I kind of miss her drunk. And you – you're the worst! You're always, 'Julia, I'm your daddy, and I love you, and I'll kill anyone who doesn't, because you deserve the best for however long you have left to live.'"

"I don't say that," House protested. "I'm not that much of a jerk."

"You're getting better," she admitted. "I'm proud of you."

"Back at you," he said sincerely. They locked eyes and were silent, contemplating all the possible meanings of the other party's gaze.

"Is this the part where we fall into each other's arms and cry and have what I believe is called a 'moment?'" Julia asked finally. "I've had quite enough of that for a lifetime."

"Same here," House replied, relieved. "Let's play a game."

"A game?" Julia repeated. "How juvenile of you, Dad. What kind of game?"

"Johnny has an apple in his pocket," House said. "Your turn. B."

Julia rolled her eyes. She hated this game. "Johnny has an apple and a banana in his pocket," she acquiesced, hoping the hour would fly by.

"Johnny has an apple, a banana, and a carrot in his pocket," House said, breaking out the cranberry sauce.

"Johnny has an apple, a banana, a carrot, and a doughnut in his pocket," Julia said. House gave her a blank stare. "What? Can't Johnny have a little sugar every now and then?"

"Johnny has an apple, a banana, a carrot, a doughnut, and an eggplant in his pocket."

* * *

Three o'clock finally came and everyone that needed to be there was present. Alma had arrived an hour before to make sure they hadn't destroyed the turkey (they hadn't; in fact, she pronounced it the most tender, lovely turkey she'd ever seen before), and Chase got there at three o'clock because he was going to be spending the evening with them. James and Julie Wilson were entertaining their parents, but promised to come by later for dessert, as would Drs. Cuddy and Foreman. Cuddy had things to finish up at the hospital, as her work could not halt for the holidays, and Foreman had also spent some time with his family. The only person unaccounted for was Allison Cameron.

"Where is she?" House wondered. "She said she'd be here at three. It's three-oh-two now. How rude."

"Oh, shut up," Julia told him. "Don't be OCD about the time."

"What was I thinking, Miss you-think-it's-funny-not-to-be-punctual?" House asked her, grinning. "Of course not."

"She's probably just caught in traffic or something," Chase assured them. "She'll be here in no time."

"She lives a total of three minutes away," House protested. "Something isn't right."

"Chill," Julia said.

"Do you always talk to your father that way?" Alma asked her. "Sounds disrespectful to me."

House snickered. "She sure does. Bloodthirsty little thing, isn't she?"

"Give Cameron another few minutes," Julia said.

They waited for ten. "You snooze, you lose," House finally said, unable to keep the disappointment out of his voice. "Let's eat." He was actually looking forward to having her come by. They'd really grown to love each other over the past few months, and while they weren't willing to admit it, certain feelings of romance and other inconvenient emotions arose at the worst times – usually around Julia, who had decided she wouldn't mind having a step-mom that wasn't even ten years older than she was. House had been expecting Allison to leave for the holiday, but she surprised him by saying she could stick around to have Thanksgiving dinner at his place that year. He couldn't imagine why she would miss it…

She knocked on the door; everyone breathed a huge sigh of relief. "Because of that, you get to stand in a corner while we eat," House told her as he let her in.

"Sorry," Cameron said as came in, nodding to everyone in greeting. "I forgot…you know," she said to Alma, "and I had to go back and get it."

Julia glanced from Cameron to her mother. "What's going on with you two? What's 'it?'"

"Just something," Alma told her sweetly, and she exchanged a mysterious grin with Cameron.

"That's an alliance I thought was impossible," House commented as he walked to the table. "Let's eat."

Everybody sat down and looked at each other. What now?

Chase cleared his throat. "So now what? Perhaps grace?"

House scoffed. "Grace?" he repeated. "I don't think we're of the grace variety. Right, Julia?"

She kicked him under his seat and said, "Observe whatever custom you feel like, and we'll all be good and wait for you."

Chase turned red. "No thank-you," he said.

"Well, how about if we go around the table and say one thing we're thankful for," Alma suggested.

"Awww," Cameron cooed. "That's so sweet! House, why don't you start?"

"Oh boy," he said, stalling for time. "Ummm…I'm…grateful for all of you, I guess," he mumbled, intently studying the napkin in his lap.

Julia, seated next to him, smiled at that. He was being _sincere_! "I'm grateful for each and every day I get to spend with all of you, because each one is precious," she said.

Chase went next. "I'm grateful for my job, because without it, I never would have gotten to know such wonderful people," he said quietly, looking down. Julia let out a little squeal and squeezed his hand. Ordinarily, he would have been upset that she'd drawn attention to this embarrassing admittance, but hell, it was Thanksgiving, and if House could sober up enough to be serious, why couldn't he?

Now it was Cameron's turn. "I'm grateful that I'm so fortunate to have a place to sleep, food, clothes, and the only things I have to worry about are trivial and unimportant in the grand scheme of things."

Alma came last. "I'm grateful for second chances and the people that give them to me over and over again," she said.

Everyone sat quietly for a second, contemplating what they had just shared. House broke the silence by clearing his throat and saying, "If we sit here and cry much longer, the turkey's going to get cold, and Julia will kill me if I let all of her hard work go to waste." That being said, everyone stuffed themselves full of the feast that had been created in House's formerly toxic kitchen.

The Wilsons, Cuddy, and Foreman arrived at six o'clock in the evening, and everyone was happy to see them. It was everyone except House's first time meeting Julie, so James went around introducing her to them. "This is Dr. Chase, Dr. Cameron, Dr. Cuddy – you remember Dr. Cuddy? – and Dr. Foreman," James told her. "Of course you know Dr. House. This is Alma Peterson, a friend of House's, and this is House's daughter, Julia."

"A pleasure to meet you, Julia," Julie said, shaking her hand warmly. "I've heard many nice things about you."

Julia grinned. Obviously, Wilson had decided to keep The Incident a secret. "Ditto," she replied. "Glad to know you."

"Okay, friends and family," House called, wondering what had turned him into such a typical father. "Now that we're all here, I'd like to say a few words."

"Oh God," Cuddy muttered. "A speech. I knew it was coming."

House ignored her. "Four months and some days ago, I was simply Dr. House. I wasn't a husband, a father, a friend – I had no role in anyone's life other than some egotistical jerk with a nasty mouth and a brilliant mind, if I do say so myself. That all changed, a lot. By something more than coincidence, I discovered that my evil has been replicated in a younger and much more attractive female version of myself – my daughter Julia. This kid is something else, let me tell you. She's braved a childhood we've only seen in our nightmares –" here, she shot him a dirty look, warning him not to read into it too far "- is still battling with illness, and even took on the task of cleaning my apartment, floor to ceiling, and yet I ended up being the one to prepare the turkey this afternoon because the blood made her queasy." Here, everyone laughed politely. "Overall, though, I'm proud of her. For being one giant oxymoron, she's an incredible person. Fun to be around, intelligent, humorous, loyal, honest, and forgiving. I say that last part because I think almost all of us in this room have unintentionally done something to hurt this angelic creature, myself at the top of this list. She's a saint, isn't she? Julia puts up with me time and time again, and I'm beyond lucky that she has. She lets me screw up as I try and fail to get the dad thing right. I just want her to know that I appreciate it."

Julia's face was burning. "Dad," she hissed. "I appreciate the speech and all, but really, this is going a little too far."

"I love this kid because she gives us all room to grow up, and I never thought I'd say it, but I'm so glad she came looking for me when she did." House paused, allowing more thoughts to flood into his mind. "So this Thanksgiving, I'd just like to thank her for pulling me out of myself and forcing me to change. I hope I've made her proud."

Julia pulled out a tissue and began to wipe her eyes. "That was beautiful," she murmured. She got up and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"I want you to have that kind of relationship with our kids when _we _have one," Julie whispered to James.

"Cameron," Cuddy hissed. "Tissues."

"Get your own; I'm out," Allison said, rummaging through her purse.

"We should get this on tape," Chase told Foreman.

"For what, blackmail?" he replied. "That's kind of mean. We shouldn't hold it against him for having a heart."

"Alma, it's your turn," House said. "I know you had something to say."

"Yes, I did," she said, standing up. "Julia, everything your dad said, I say too. You really ended up bringing out the best in all of us, and we really appreciate it. You wondered what Allison and I were talking about earlier today – well, I'll let her bring it up."

Allison obediently brought her a gift-wrapped box.

"What, no cross-dressers this time?" Julia asked, smiling as she tried to stop crying.

"Not today," she said.

"Julia, this is the only way we could think of to show you how much we love you," Alma said. "In the way you've cared for us all, we don't want you to forget yourself in the equation, so we've compiled this…thing, as a reminder to always remember what an amazing person you our. Everybody here contributed something, and we always want you to remember how much it meant to us that you came along." Alma watched as her daughter burst into yet more tears of joy. "Honey, you haven't even opened it yet," she said.

"I know," Julia replied miserably. "I can't even see anything right now. Ugh, I can't believe you made me cry on Thanksgiving! Christmas is gonna be great fun, isn't it?" Julia managed to untie the ribbon and rip through the paper. She found a scrapbook inside. She opened the cover and found… "Baby pictures?" she said in disbelief. "I didn't know we had any…"

"I might have been a bad mother, but I wasn't stupid enough to forget to take pictures," Alma said, mortified.

Julia flipped through the book, noticing every detail. Somehow, all the happy things crowded out the sadness she had experienced, and her mother had done an incredible job in capturing all the moments that defined her. Captions like "Julia coming home from the hospital" and "Julia going to kindergarten" and "Julia graduating high school at the top of her class" popped out at her. Locks of hair from her first haircut and baby teeth bordered the first page of pictures, and her mother had cut patterns of paper to represent each age for the rest of the pages. More recently, pictures of House and the people he'd brought with him into her life surfaced. Somehow, in every picture, Julia was smiling.

"Oh my God," she said. "This is incredible."

Everyone wiped their eyes – well, all the females in the room, anyway; the males just looked down and pursed their lips.

"What about another picture?" House asked. "I noticed this page was blank." He reached over Julia's shoulder and flipped the page to a header that read "Turkey Day, 2005."

"Excellent idea," Julia said. "Oh, damn it, hold on. I bet I smudged my make-up." She hurried to the bathroom and let out a shriek. "I have raccoon eyes!"

Cameron, Julie, and Alma all ran after her, shouting things like, "Hold on, honey, we'll be right there!" and "Start washing your face!" and "No need to panic! I know a trick with an eyeliner pencil that'll have you ready to go in seconds!"

The men stared at each other in silence. "Who's gonna take the picture?" Wilson asked finally.

"Good question," Foreman said. "It can't be one of us."

"We could set it on timer," Chase suggested.

"That never works," House said. "It always holds off until you think maybe you set it wrong, you stare at it quizzically, and _poof_! Your confusion is captured on film." He thought. "Old Mr. Dodd, next door. He could take the picture."

"Maybe Old Mr. Dodd would just like to be left alone on Thanksgiving," Foreman suggested. "Maybe he had family that he's celebrating with and doesn't want to be bothered."

"Nobody visits Mr. Dodd," Wilson said, knowing this was true, as he'd run into the man several times when he visited House. "He's always alone."

"That's sad," Chase said.

"Go help the girls with their make-up," House told him, grinning. "You can exchange hair tips, since that style you were wearing in the cross-dressing photo was _so_ cute. Alright, I'll go over there and ask him." House marched over to Mr. Dodd's apartment and knocked on the door.

"What do you want?" he grumbled as he opened the door. House felt like crap; he heard the t.v. blaring in the background and poor Mr. Dodd was eating Lean Cuisine for his Thanksgiving dinner.

"We were wondering if you'd, ummm, like to come over to my apartment," House mumbled. "For…dessert."

"I don't like dessert," Mr. Dodd said. "Gives me digestive problems."

_Oh boy_, House thought. _Now I remember why I never reach out to anybody._ "Well, could you at least take a picture for us?"

Mr. Dodd rolled his eyes, but obediently dropped his tray on the table and stomped over to House's apartment. "What do I gotta do, just look through this here lens and press this button?" he asked.

"That's right," House said. "Julia, have you succeeded in not looking like a raccoon yet?"

"Give me a minute!" she called. "You know, eyes aren't easy to work with!"

House rolled his eyes. "Alright. Let's get in position so we're ready when they finally get out here." Each man took a spot on the couch or behind it, leaving enough room for the women to get in next to them. House was sitting in the center, leaving space beside him on either side for Alma and Julia; Chase sat down next to where Julia would be. Wilson was behind Chase, leaving space for Julie, and Foreman stood at the far right, thus allowing Cuddy space to stand next to Julie. Finally, the make-up crisis was taken care of, and the ladies came out and took their places. "Okay, Mr. Dodd, we're ready," House told him.

Mr. Dodd snapped the picture and said gruffly, "You look nice." Then he set the camera on the table and headed for the door. "Happy Thanksgiving."

Julia stood up and threw an arm over his shoulder in a friendly manner. "Where do you think you're going?" she asked. "I made chocolate mousse, and I demand you try some before you go home."

A slow grin spread across Mr. Dodd's face. "Well, if you insist," he said. "I guess I don't mind digestive problems if it's good."

Julia stifled a laugh and promised him it would be worth it. Then she made House take a picture of her and her "favorite neighbor in the history of neighbors," as she would pronounce him at the end of the evening.

Alma reviewed all of the pictures taken of the day with House after everyone had gone home. "Look at this," she said. "We want to remind her who she is, and yet it's like she's nothing without us. Every picture is of her and someone else."

"Who taught her to be that way?" House wondered.

"We certainly didn't," Alma said.

Julia was in her room, supposedly asleep. In reality, she was listening to her parents talking. "Yes, you did," she whispered, knowing they'd never hear her. "You said it yourself – I'm nothing without you."

* * *

Many of you will be pleased to hear that I got a new job! This is a job a four-year-old could do – basically, I'm on my knees singing the alphabet all day, filing and whatnot. Therefore, this new work environment is going to be very conducive to feeding my imagination. Hurray for boring jobs that pay minimum wage!

Also, am I the only one who is outraged that the Teen Choice Awards are taking up House's time slot tomorrow night? I personally don't give a damn if I have a choice (if I did, I certainly wouldn't have chosen Hilary Duff to host the show); therefore, this is certainly not good news at all.

Keep your time machines running; we've got one more time jump to cover! Chapter 25 up soon! (As always, I'm craving your reviews.)


	25. Three Days

This will be the last chapter FOR EIGHT MORE DAYS. Better remember that last part, because this is not the end, even though it feels like it. I'm being forced to go on vacation (imagine the horror) and will not have access to a computer. Well, I will, but I won't be able to post anything because I'm quite certain my aunt and uncle don't want my fan-fiction stored in their computer and me constantly on it for hours on end…I WILL be looking for your reviews, though, so keep 'em coming! It'll help me remain inspired as I try to do the pen-and-paper thing for the next chapter. Again, this isn't the end! We're getting closer, though…

I don't own it.

* * *

**Day One: December 23**

_Five thirty in the morning. Why am I awake? Something isn't right._

The thoughts occurred to House slowly and hazily. It took him quite some time to understand them. He sat up in his bed, sure his eyes weren't open. He couldn't see anything. He blinked several times, and things were just beginning to come into focus. That's when he realized: he felt alone for the first time in months.

He dragged his feet along the ground, walking towards the inevitable. If he took long enough, maybe it would have the decency to reverse itself and he wouldn't find what he knew he would. House flipped on the light in Julia's room, praying to hear her shriek at the intrusion as he knew she would if everything was alright.

Nothing.

He forced himself to look at her. Impossibly thin, impossibly white, impossibly still. This was death. How could she look so peaceful and happy? She didn't know what had happened to her; if she did, she would have been outraged. She looked so ignorant, with her lips curved slightly upward as if she was pleased with things. Obviously her flesh was weak in that it didn't understand what had happened to it; he wondered if her spirit was angry, somewhere beyond the living.

House sat down beside her and touched her hand. Impossibly cold as well.

He'd known it was coming; days would go by and she'd slide downwards, steadily and quickly, like she was riding some sort of evil sled on snow fallen from hell. He had wanted her to at least make it past Christmas, though. It would have made it a hell of a lot easier to accept. "At least we had that much time together," he could have said. But no. Julia had chosen to give up too soon.

"I understand," House lied. A thousand replies, all in her sweet voice, rushed through his mind. He wondered what she would have said if she could have spoken to him. He'd never know.

He remained fairly stoic throughout the day; he called Alma to come and see her, then contacted hospice to take the body away. He made sure Chase, James and Julie, Cameron and Foreman knew, and left a message at the hospital for Cuddy. Alma was the only one who could get away fast enough to kiss Julia's earthly vessel good-bye. It had taken every bit of willpower they had to let the nurse that had been taking care of her in her final days pull a sheet over Julia's once-beautiful face and have her carried out of the room like trash. The formalities of the incident went by too quickly; now they were left to face the emptiness Julia had left them with.

Alma finally spoke. "We have to have a funeral," she whispered, her voice smothered in grief.

"Yes," House acquiesced, annoyed that she had to be so blunt about the matter. "I don't want to see her body, Alma, I really don't."

She nodded in agreement. "We'll have her cremated," she decided. "She wouldn't have wanted to be remembered as the ghost she turned into over the past few months."

"What will we do with the ashes?"

"I don't want to sprinkle them anywhere," Alma insisted. "She used to tell me that she'd like to be on the ocean, but I'm selfish enough to want her with me, you know? It doesn't seem right to turn her out into the cold without a place to go when it's raining outside."

"She told you this?" House asked. "When?"

"When she was little," Alma admitted. "After she understood what death was, maybe around six or seven. It was after her goldfish or guppy or one of those little fish died, maybe a month or two later. She told me, 'Mommy, I know we've never been before, but I so want to see the beach. Maybe Frank –" that was the thing's name "- went there after he left us." I told her that's not exactly how it works. You don't wake up in another place on Earth when you die; who knows if you wake up at all? She got quiet and then told me, 'I'll be the first then. When I die, I want to wake up in the ocean, swimming with the dolphins watching the sun set in front of me.' I always meant to take her to the beach someday, to get the thought out of her head, because it scared the hell out of me, that a little kid could think that way." Her voice broke. "I guess I'll never get the chance."

House held her, needing the contact as much as she did, though not as quick to admit it. "What would she have wanted now?" he asked when they could speak.

"She would have wanted to be with us," Alma sniffed. "Both of us."

"We could divide the ashes," he suggested. "Two urns, his and hers."

Alma shook her head. "I don't want her to feel torn."

"She probably did anyway," House told her. "We did a good job of being civil, but we're not the kind of parents that probably put her at ease with the delicacy of the situation."

"Are you saying that felt like she had to constantly choose between us?" she asked. "The arrangement was a little unusual, but we _were _a family, Greg. I don't know about you, but I haven't been faking for the past few months. I'm…I don't know, fond of you, I guess. Not head-over-heels in love, but you…you really mean something to me."

"So do you," he said. "We _weren't_ a family. We _are_. Things aren't going to be the same without Julia, Alma, but maybe someday they can be just as good."

Alma left a short time later to go home and contemplate the loss of what she and no one else had shared with Julia. Cuddy came by later with Chase, Cameron, and Foreman; they offered their condolences, which House figured were useless at a time like this. When they saw there was nothing they could do, they left as well, promising they would be back to check on him. Wilson was the last to arrive, coming in shortly after the last duckling had shut the door.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"No," House replied honestly. "I don't think I am."

"Need to talk?"

"No."

"Well, damn it, I do, and you're the only one around to listen." Wilson bit his lip, wondering what in hell had possessed him to say something like that.

"I talk to her," he admitted suddenly. "When nobody's listening, in between the spurts of visitors and the "I'm-sorry-for-your-losses" and the moments where I get caught up in trying to make everybody else feel better, I talk to her. I ask her questions, tell her things I never got to say, realize the truths it took me this long to understand." House drew in a shaky breath. "Goddamnit, Jimmy, it's gonna take years for me to stop expecting her to answer me."

"There's more than one way to answer somebody," James said, searching his mind for something, _anything_ to say that would take the sting of the whole event away. "Maybe she will one of these days, just in a way you didn't expect."

"Right," House said sadly. "I bet you're gonna tell me next that she was a good kid and she'll go to heaven and get a halo for being so great."

"God would have to be a Nazi not to let her in," Wilson replied. "House, wherever she went after taking that last breath, she's happy. People get what they deserve in the end."

"Yes," he murmured. "And I deserve this."

* * *

**Day Two: December 24**

House laid in bed for hours on end, but never really got to sleep. For some inexplicable reason, he'd been reliving every single moment he spent with Julia, everything from their most significant conversations to petty disagreements over little things. He remembered things he had forgotten ever happened; those were the memories that made living from one moment to the next almost impossible.

He gave up on the idea of sleep at eight o'clock the next morning. He walked past the mirror, afraid to look into it and see what he'd done to himself from lack of rest. Mostly, he was afraid he might catch his own eyes and start thinking something absurd like Julia was now inside of him, a part of him that would remain forever engraved in his heart. _Sounds like a Nicholas Sparks novel_, he thought smugly, momentarily forgetting everything as he absentmindedly pulled on yesterday's clothes instead of something fresh.

He moved through the day's activities – funeral arrangements, cremation, picking out an urn, informing distant relatives, her friends, former teachers, and other people that obviously didn't give a damn if they hadn't been keeping up with her – like he was underwater. It got harder and harder to do, moving from one aspect of Julia's death to the next, but when he came home, it was like he didn't have to hold his breath anymore. Everything he had just done was blurry and distorted in his mind; at least here, he could see clearly.

House didn't particularly like seeing that everything was returning to the way it was before.

Exhausted, he hit the pillow and fell asleep, somewhere in his dreams, relieved.

* * *

**Day Three: December 25**

_Oh God,_ House thought, nausea hitting him hard as he woke up. _It's Christmas._

He thought back to barely ten days ago. Julia had been pretty sick; she wasn't up to going out with House and retrieving a tree like real adventurers would have, so she'd suggested that he pick up a nice fake tree at Wal-Mart along with some pretty decorations and lights. "And an angel!" she'd called after him as he left. He'd obediently brought back the items he'd never bothered getting for himself, and they'd set to putting it together. House had done all the hard labor: assembling it branch by branch, figuring out how to turn the lights on, and climbing a staggering _eight feet_ into the air to get the angel on the top. Julia, too weak to stand anymore, sat on a chair next to the tree and hung ornaments from the branches. When the tree was finished, Julia told him to go into her room and get the huge plastic JCPenny bag from under her bed and put the contents all around the tree. He had begrudgingly relented, and when he was done, he had to admit the tree looked abundantly nicer surrounded by all of these mysterious shapes wrapped in Precious Moments wrapping paper. "So this is what you and Cameron accomplished when you went shopping the day after Thanksgiving," he said. "What'd you get me?" She had simply grinned and told him he'd have to wait.

The thought of all of those gifts under the trees burned him like nothing else ever had. _All of that generosity, all of that time and love and devotion gone to waste!_ he screamed inwardly. _All I want for Christmas is one more minute with my daughter! That can't hurt anybody!_ House wasn't exactly sure who he was talking to – God, maybe? – but whoever might have heard him apparently wasn't about to spread tidings of great joy, because no miracles happened for him.

He rolled over in his bed and groaned. _Why'd you have to do this to me, Julia?_ he asked. _That's a pretty cruel game you've played. I hate you for doing it. I hate you for coming into my life and turning everything upside down. I hate you for being so damn wonderful all the time and making me love you. I hate you for dying. I hate you for living. I hate you…_The thoughts cut into him more than they ever would Julia if she could have heard him. _I still hate you,_ he thought, strangely pleased that once again, he'd conquered emotion.

House got up and went to his living room. That damn Christmas tree stood there mocking him, blinking its little white lights ferociously. "I'll fix that," he said as he ripped the cord from the outlet. Then he took every ornament and threw it at the wall, smashing them into hundreds of different pieces, the broken glass shimmering as it floated to the ground. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard Julia scolding him. _Tsk, tsk_, she would have said, shaking her head. _If you wanted confetti, there happens to be a Party Co. about fifteen minutes away. I'm sure theirs would be a little safer, in case someone happens to step on it and doesn't want to have little shards of color embedded in the soles of their feet forever._ "Shut up," he said as he continued to shatter the dyed globes meant to represent happiness and harmony. "You're dead. You don't get to talk, not even in my imagination."

House tore the tree apart, branch by branch, little fake pine leaves flying everywhere as he did so. The floor was littered, a mess of plastic, glass, and unopened gifts. He caught sight of a gift tag somewhere in the disorder. "To Robert from Julia," he read. "What's this? More heartache in a box? And all this time, I thought he would be the one to make _you_ cry. Guess I was wrong about that too."

He went to the kitchen and shoved his hand into the cabinet under the sink. He felt a bunch of warm furry things with tiny feet crawling over his hand and scattering as he invaded their space. "Damn mice," he said as his fingers connected with what he was looking for: a garbage bag. He ripped the black plastic out from the cabinet, almost smiling as he shook it open and approached the tree again.

"To Robert from Julia," he said again as he tossed the package carelessly into the bag. "To Eric from Julia." Another gift was taken. "To Julie Wilson from Julia." He exaggerated a wince as he heard glass break when he dropped the box into the bag. "Oops," he said. "Oh, well. To Mom from Julia…"

Somehow, every parcel associated with her made it into the garbage bag within the next few minutes. It all came down to the last gift remaining under the tree.

"To Dad from Julia," he read. "Fascinating. Should I open it? _That_ is the big question." He cocked his head, getting a perverse pleasure from returning to such a foul, crude state of mind. It felt better to be mad at Julia than to want her back, although madness took a little extra effort on his part to come up with reasons _why_. "Eh, hell, why not?" He tore off the paper slowly, wondering if what he would find was going to change things. House dared to have hope…

"A bottle of Windex," he chuckled. "A fucking bottle of Windex. Haha, very funny, Julia, you little brat. Where's the make-up gift? There _is_ none! There's a _card_ instead! Well, excuse me for not feeling particularly friendly towards you right now. I really don't want to know what you have to say about this, because it might possibly make me _more_ miserable. It's amazing; I never think you can do it, but somehow you manage to elude impossibility and surprise me once again: you're ruining everything for me!" House stopped rambling and began to sob. "You ruined everything…"

_This feels good_, he thought in surprise. _I should have tried this crying stuff sooner. I guess maybe it can be addictive though…explains why Alma's always doing it._

Somewhere far away, House heard knocking. "Oh, hell, _now_ she comes back from the dead," he muttered, unable to move from where he was, splayed on the living room floor, surrounded by all manner of trash and treasure alike.

The knocking continued, loudly and more urgently with each instance. He didn't care. _No one_ could see him like this, absolutely no one…

It stopped. _Good,_ he thought, wiping his eyes, ashamed of this private display of sorrow he'd allowed himself. He glanced at the bottle of Windex and the lavender envelope in his lap, and looked at the ceiling for help. He bit his lip, wishing he was dead instead of Julia. Let _her _learn what this feels like…

The door burst open, and House yelled, "Who the hell are you?"

"It's me," Cameron said sheepishly, and he could see she had been crying too. "You weren't answering the door, so I had your landlord let me in," she continued, eyeing the mess on the floor. "What happened?"

"_I_ happened," he admitted, wondering what the hell gave his landlord the right to let anyone he liked into his apartment. There was obviously a reason he wasn't answering the door, and the reason was that he was in no mental condition to carry on a conversation with anyone at the moment…

Cameron kneeled down beside him. "Feeling angry?" she asked softly.

"Yeah, and like I want to be alone too," he mumbled crossly. "Have you ever considered that maybe I _need_ a little solitude? I'm so sick of people."

"Yeah, well, they're not too crazy about you either," she said, smiling sadly. "And yes, I did consider that you needed some time alone, and then I realized that you've had more than enough of that."

"FYI, I hate being told what to do with myself," House informed her coolly. "Thanks for stopping by, though. Have a happy holiday."

"Don't be like this," Cameron pleaded. "Like it or not, you need to talk to _somebody._ I don't care if it's not me, really. But you need to let it out, House, you really do. This isn't healthy."

"You're a like a poster child for emotional maturity," he said. "I believe it was you that told me everybody deals with emotion in different ways."

"I didn't say everyone did it the right way," Cameron told him. "Now, I want you to be specific. What happened in here to cause all this?" She indicated the mixture of broken glass and the destroyed Christmas tree, which had supposedly been built to last.

House took a deep breath, willing himself to calm down enough to convince Cameron that temporary insanity had caused him to go out of his mind in rage and obliterate his environmentally-safe Christmas tree. He hoped she would fall for him saying that he was mad at death; he didn't think she'd take so well to him being mad at Julia.

"I was angry," he admitted. "It just really pisses me off to know that Julia never got to see this, and I thought, 'Well, if she doesn't get to have a merry Christmas, then neither do I.' I guess I got kind of hostile as I was taking down the decorations."

Cameron regarded him tiredly. "Stop lying," she said. "I don't want to hear some fluffy story about what you think I want to hear; tell me what's really on your mind."

"What's on my mind is that I'm really not interested," he shot at her.

"I don't care! Do you really want to go on feeling like this? If you do, that's just fine with me, because I'm certainly not sticking around to see it," Cameron said. "It would kind of suck if we ended up right back where we started, you spiraling downward into your never-ending pit of misery and me pining away for you so bad I'm willing to jump in with you. It ends now. Understand?"

House could only stare at her and blink his eyes, unable to believe what he was seeing. Was it possible that Allison Cameron was _angry _at him? "Jesus," he grumbled. "I thought _I _was vicious. Okay…to be honest, I wasn't mad that Julia didn't get to see her nineteenth Christmas. I was mad _at her_ because she didn't try hard enough to stick around."

"I see." Cameron sat back, relaxed now that she was slowly peeling away his layers of fury. "Go on."

"I woke up this morning, and just the thought of Christmas made me sick, and then I got to thinking how cruel it was of her to practically force herself into my life knowing that it was possible that she was going to die any day now…"

"Anybody can die," Cameron told him. "If you got hit by a bus tomorrow, do you think I would be mad at you because you made me care about you and then just died?"

"Someone would be," House said. "I doubt it would end up being you; you're too nice to get mad at anybody. But someone would think, 'Bastard. I never liked him anyway,' at some point in the days following my demise. Maybe Jimmy or someone."

"Would you want him to feel that way?"

"Of course not."

"Julia wouldn't have wanted you mad at her for skipping out on you at the last second," Cameron said softly. "She really couldn't help it, House."

"But there's more!" he insisted, picking up the bottle of Windex and shoving it at her. He was determined not to let go of the anger yet. "I found _this_ under the tree as I was, uhhh, cleaning up. A bottle of _Windex_? What kind of sick joke is that?"

Cameron couldn't help but smile. "A pretty funny one," she admitted. "House, that's not all there is. Read the card."

He shook his head adamantly. "I don't want to."

"Do it," she insisted. "You won't understand if you don't."

House rolled his eyes but obediently began to tear into the lavender envelope. He pulled out a card with a picture of Jesus on the front. He opened it and a little paper fell out. House unfolded it and gasped. "What the…" He turned to Cameron, his mouth wide open in surprise. "You _knew _about this?"

She nodded. "She told me when we went shopping that day for presents. Believe me, I asked her if she was sure, and she said yes. She said no one deserved it more than you."

"Ten thousand dollars? What'd she do, rob a bank?"

"Well, kind of," Cameron admitted. "She closed her account that day."

"What's it for?"

"Read the damn card, and maybe you'll find out!"

House rubbed his eyes furiously as he studied Julia's flowery handwriting. "Dear Dad," it read, "I hope you love the Windex, or at least that it didn't piss you off too much. After you finish reading this, you'd better take it for a test drive; I noticed the other day that your bedroom window is getting so that you can't see past the bird poop and pollution piling up onto it. Anyways, onto the good stuff: $10,000, all for you! Since you insisted on taking care of the hospice yourself, I thought you deserved a little compensation, but more importantly, it's to leave my mark on you. $10,000 probably isn't a lot to a brilliant doctor like yourself, but this is my life's savings we're talking about here; it took me five years of restaurant work to earn that much. I was pretty proud of that number; it always used to seem so huge to me. Then I found out I was dying, and that kind of dwarfed being 'rich,' as it were. Money couldn't have saved me, so I thought, 'What else do I want more than anything?' I want you to know how much I love you and that there _is_ life after death. Not mine necessarily, but _yours_. Don't throw it away yet, okay? I don't know what you'll want to do with this. Save it for a rainy day, let it sit in the bank and rack up interest, give it to the first homeless person you see – I don't care as long as it makes you happy. Like I said, it's not a lot, but it's a start to whatever you desire. Merry Christmas! All my love, Julia."

Cameron was sobbing, House couldn't do anything but try to breath, and somewhere in the background – probably from Mr. Dodd's apartment – it was being crooned that chestnuts were, in fact, roasting on an open fire.

"Ten thousand dollars is 'not a lot'?" House finally said. "Who does she think I am, Bill Gates?"

Cameron laughed. "Maybe now you understand," she said.

"Did she get this extravagant for everyone?" House wanted to know.

"Not really," Cameron decided. "She got everyone some nice stuff, though."

House winced, remembering the crash he'd heard as he had thrown Julie Wilson's gift into the garbage bag. "I see," he said slowly. "Wow…So once again, I underestimate my daughter. Even when she's not around, she still never ceases to amaze me. Ten _thousand_ dollars…"

"What are you going to do with it?" Cameron asked him, wondering if this was a rude question. "I mean, you know, if you feel like telling me."

"I don't know," he admitted. "I honestly don't. The possibilities are endless."

"Don't spend it all on new games for your Gameboy," she teased gently.

"Yes, _Mother_," House said. He paused, then asked, "So what brings you here?"

Cameron shrugged. "ESP? Somehow I just knew you were going to end up doing something like this, maybe?"

"Really."

She sighed. "I was lonely, you were lonely. I figured maybe we could be lonely together."

House gave a snort of laughter. "Oh my God, that's hilarious."

Cameron blushed. "But it's true."

"Maybe so, but stating the obvious wastes time," he said. "'Lonely together,' huh? That's a beautiful picture. What exactly does that involve, this 'lonely together' business?"

"I don't know," Cameron answered. "Whatever you feel like, I guess."

House thought for a minute. "Let's go sledding." It was Cameron's turn to laugh. He stared at her thoughtfully. "You're laughing, but I'm serious. It snowed yesterday, all the families with little kids are still inside trying to free all the toys from the ten thousand layers of plastic they're wrapped in, and it's a very Christmas-y activity that will certainly bring tidings of great joy. Come on, what do you say?"

"Where are we going to get a sled?" she asked.

He shrugged. "We could steal one." Cameron, horrified, punched him in the arm. He wouldn't have known she did it if he hadn't watched wield her fist. "Pathetic," he said, smiling. "Of course we're not going to steal one, genius. You don't have one laying around somewhere?"

"No."

"Time to get creative, then." House thought for a moment, then grinned. "You know anyone with a trash can?"

* * *

Half an hour later, Cameron and House were sliding down a hill on the lid of James Wilson's trash can, feeling more alive than they ever had before. The air was freezing, the make-shift sled was a little bit uncomfortable and quite crowded for the two of them, but God, was it great to cry out in joy instead of anger and grief for once. Only when the sun began to set and neither could feel their limbs did they decide to call it a day. House retreated to his home, Cameron to hers, and somehow it didn't feel quite right this way.

House considered the check Julia had written out to him. "Ten thousand dollars," he chuckled, still unable to believe it. He shoved it into his pocket and began to pace, thinking. It began to burn a hole in his pocket; at least it felt that way. What does one do with such generosity?

He was all set to invest it in Julia; maybe a nice urn for her to rest in, or he could donate it to some cause she would have deemed worthy. One thing stopped him. _There _is _life after death. Yours. Don't waste it; do whatever makes you happy._ Her letter had been explicitly clear, and he wasn't about to ignore good advice. Three days since he'd been truly happy; certainly it was time to get the feeling again.

_Happy, huh_? he thought. _When was the last time I felt happy, even for a moment?_ It surprised him, even shocked him, when no memories of Julia surfaced right away. The image of Allison Cameron came to mind instead; her tumbling into the snow, her face rosy and smiling, the sound of her laughter…_Oh, God._ House rolled his eyes and pulled out the check. He studied it mournfully.

"It's not a big screen t.v. or a vacation home in North Carolina," he observed, picturing his future purchase in his mind, "but hell, it'll make me happy."

House, having promised Allison that he would return it to James and Julie, grabbed the trash can lid, headed to the garage, got in his car, and drove to the Wilsons' home. He knocked on the door and waited impatiently in the cold for them to answer the door.

"Hey, House," James said, surprised to see him again so soon.

"I have your trash can lid," House said, handing it to him as he walked into the foyer. No need for an invitation – hell, they were practically brothers after going through so much together, so why couldn't he come in? "I need to talk to Julie."

As if on cue, she floated into the room, positively giddy from her Christmas day. The grin on her face and the honey in her voice irked him, but he needed her help.

"Greg," she said happily. "Good to see you again so soon. Did you and Allison have fun with the trash can lid?"

"We had a great time, thanks," he said hurriedly. "Listen, I need to ask you a few questions."

"About what?" James asked. "What's going on?"

"Relax, I'm not leaving you out of the fun either," House told him. "You can listen if you want, but you'll find it boring. It's a girl thing."

James stared at him strangely, wondering what went on in his friend's mind.

"Look, Julie," he said, not quite knowing how to phrase everything on his mind concisely and without losing his cool. "I need to know…where I can find a nice engagement ring."

* * *

I hope you liked that; I'm writing this at midnight, I've been working like a dog between getting ready for school and working, and...no more excuses. I give up; I'm a bad writer. :P Thanks for reading.


	26. Author's Note: My Sincerest Apologies

Dear Readers:

How are you all doing on this fine August day? I hope life is treating you kindly.

I'm back from my vacation; it was very relaxing and great fun. Thanks for the patience on updates! I'm sorry to have to tell you all this, but I am NOT posting a new chapter right now. I did, however, go back and change the ending of the last chapter. It's nothing major, but you might want to go back and read it, just in case. As you'll recall, Cameron was going to take House to a secret location to have some fun on Christmas day in spite of the fact that Julia has just died. In short, my ideas totally fell through, and as a result, I came up with an alternate solution to the problem. (It was some pretty weird stuff, let me tell you. The whole thing involved thirteen four-year-old orphans, a pair of size three ice-skates, and a bus driver named Ernie. It did _not _turn out like I had envisioned it in my mind, and try as I may, I couldn't get it to work.) I think you'll find this change acceptable if not better than what had been written previously. (Note to House/Cam fans: You'll like this one, I think. Everyone else: Sorry, folks. There was no other way to do it without extending the story for a million millenniums into the future. I give my solemn promise: never again will I attempt a House/Cam story - wayyyyyy too hard to do!) As always, I appreciate that you've been reviewing and letting me know how things are looking. Two chapters to go; I should have something that might actually resemble a chapter up in a few days. Thanks for reading!

Cara/house-of-insanity


	27. Beautiful

Wow, I'm sorry that took so long! School went insane on me – the second I got back, I got slammed with four projects in addition to two hours of homework a night! Can you believe it, I've already missed an assignment, which certainly does not bode well for the future of my junior year. I was supposed to get all As this year, too…Oh well, that's what I get for pestering my teachers to put me in advanced level classes.

But then, this isn't supposed to be my life's story, so I'll move on. :P

I've got to keep the personal response thing abbreviated today – sorry – so these are the things I wanted to say to just a fraction of my multitude of my fantastic reviewers!

**Godsbane: **Sorry about the lack of correspondence! School's been crazy, like I said, and I think I accidentally deleted the message when I finally got a chance to get on and check my mail! I'll try to email you sometime soon, and we can continue our discussion on…hmmm, what was it, favorite movies and actors and fun things like that?  
**Alison Cameron/reitashnehelena: **So...you changed your penname? That's cool, just making sure...  
**SimpleRiter:** I'm sorry if the swearing bothers you, but if you read a little more, you'd certainly see that I toned that part down a little bit, not to mention that I'm sorry, but it's impossible to convince me that if the characters on _House, MD_ were real people, they would not occasionally let a few words slip. Not to mention that these are pretty extreme circumstances...Secondly, I realize I do get a little OOC, but it's my first fic ever, and I think I got a little better as I went along. Thirdly, I never said he was Italian, so I'm a bit confused. Where did you get that? AND, my name is house-of-INsanity. :) Sorry, that kind of got to me a bit...  
**Kris Wright: **That's so spooky, we had the exact same idea about the engagement ring!  
**Gothblood:** Hmmm, Cameron with Cuddy, that's an interesting one...I don't like Cameron much either, I must admit, but I don't think I could kill her off...House might have something to say about that. :P  
**runswithsissors:** Sorry about the broken glass!  
**Mollisk:** Hopefully the Emmys will be a little more sensibly chosen than the Teen Choice Awards. Also, sorry about the House/Cam-ness in the last chapter; I know you like Huddy fics. :) I think I've got a little bit of an idea for that pairing, and hopefully I'll get it written in a few weeks. With school, though, you never can tell...  
**Charmed-angel4:** I know the House/Cam-ness of the whole thing seemed to go a little quickly, but this whole story took place over a matter of months, most of which they spent getting to be really good friends...that could involve more kissing than the IHOP episode, right:P Sorry, I was raised by a pair of uber-Christian maniacs who emphasized courtship rather than dating, developing good friendships over gettin' physical, etc. That kind of rubbed off on me, even after I swapped the religion in exhange for the joy of being rebellious and the leper-like status I now possess in my own home...But whatever. :P

This is the last real chapter of this story – I might be able to post an epilogue within the next week, depending on whether:

A) My teachers decide to stop being cruel and lighten up a little on the homework.  
B) I get smarter and don't have to devote so much time and energy to school, which would be oh-so-nice but entirely improbable.

But I think I should be able to handle writing something short and sweet, don't you?

Here's chapter 27!

* * *

The first thought that pierced House's mind when he woke up on December 28 was, _I hate funerals._ Five days later, and he was already being forced to declare to whoever thought Julia was important, "She's dead!" It didn't seem fair, but he very well knew having the whole affair hanging over his head would make it worse. He got up and dressed. House looked at himself in the mirror and grimaced. "I could never be a goth," he mumbled, straightening his tie. "I look terrible in all this black." 

He mentally scolded himself as he got into his car and drove to the church. House knew it would take some time to stop thinking about her, but he would have thought that after _five days_ he might at least remember that she wasn't going to talk back. Speaking out loud served no purpose anymore, not when there was no one to hear him.

Scratch that. The reality was that plenty of people were ready and willing to listen to him if he wanted to talk. The problem was, none of them were Julia. All he really wanted was to know what she would have said to this, whether she would have laughed or not at that, how she would have felt about one statement or another. He could imagine, sure, but it was never quite the same.

House pulled into the parking lot of the church and went inside. He was greeted by Alma and the pastor who would be conducting the service.

"A pleasure to meet you, Mr. House," the pastor said, shaking his hand warmly. "It's a shame it had to be under these circumstances."

House wondered how many times he had heard that in the past few days. He nodded briskly and glanced at Alma with a look that most clearly meant, _You do the talking._

Thankfully, she understood and took over whatever fragments of a conversation could be construed. "Pastor Stone – "

"Please, such formality," he said. "Call me Richard."

"Richard," Alma said, "let me see if I have this whole thing straight. When the service begins, we're going to all sing a hymn."

"'Amazing grace, how sweet the sound,'" Richard confirmed, nodding. "Exactly."

"Then an opportunity will be given for Julia's family and friends to share with those in attendance any stories or memories of her they wish to recall?"

"Yes."

"And then you will speak."

Pastor Stone held up a packet of papers roughly the height of Mount Everest. Clearly, the man had done his homework on Julia's short but full life. "Yes, ma'am."

"And after that…"

"You all will go to the cemetery where Julia's ashes will be interred," Richard Stone said somberly. "And that will be that."

House mentally rolled his eyes; that would most certainly _not_ be that. He wasn't sure, but grief seemed that it would take a lifetime to overcome. Things like this didn't just suddenly up and disappear into thin air; they were always hanging in the shadows, waiting for the just the right moment to sneak up on you and devour you.

"Excuse us," he said, taking Alma's arm. "We need to discuss a few things. Perhaps you could go and practice your speech a little bit before we get started."

Richard nodded his agreement. "Yes, sir," he said dutifully, climbing behind his pulpit. He began to talk, and House was pleased; his voice was loud and captivating. Not only would the pastor not hear what he was about to say to Alma, but during the service, it was doubtful anybody would hear House if he happened to break down again.

"Alma," he hissed, "where did you find this guy?"

"There's nothing wrong with him, Greg," she hissed back. "You're talking like he's a clown we hired for some four-year-old's birthday party."

"Julia would have just as soon been wrapped in a blanket and thrown into a dumpster than have her funeral delivered by that moron!"

"I'm sorry, but that's the best I could do, given the circumstances. Do you know anyone who would have been more capable?"

House pursed his lips and shook his head. He didn't tend to frequent churches, therefore he didn't know which pastors in the area would have done it for him, so to speak.

"Exactly," Alma said. "Sure, he's a little blasé about the whole matter, but he's a good man. Plus, whenever we actually bothered coming to church here, he was very kind to us. Knew our names, shook our hands, asked us how we were doing."

"That's fine; he knows how to socialize," House grumbled. "He'd make a perfect Miss America, but he's not right for _this_."

"Well, what do you want me to do about it now?"

A door opened; light flooded into the dimmed chapel. Allison Cameron, whom House decided on the spot looked far better in black than he did, walked in. "Hello," she said. "I know I'm early."

"That's fine," Alma said, hugging her. "We're glad you came."

"How could I not?" she wanted to know. "How are things looking?" She had directed the question at House.

"Fine," he mumbled. "Things are going just fine." He studied her left hand silently; she wasn't wearing the ring. That was fine with him, seeing as he hadn't offered it to her yet. It was too soon to propose such an idea, and inappropriate with Julia still on everyone's mind. He had every confidence she'd say yes, though. He figured maybe on New Year's Eve, at the stroke of midnight – something romantic and sentimental like that. "What time is it?"

Alma checked her watch. "Nine-thirty," she announced. "The service starts at ten."

Within minutes, people started showing up. They appeared like leaves on trees during the spring: not there one moment, then suddenly they seem to be taking over. Among the attendants were Chase, Foreman, Cuddy, and the Wilsons, who were all privileged with sitting with the immediate family in the very front of the chapel. House looked around anxiously, hoping there would be enough seats. His hopes were dashed as he watched the pews fill up. There were close to five hundred people packed into the small church; obviously Julia had been something of a celebrity in the town. The thought pleased him, because she certainly deserved the recognition.

"Good morning," Pastor Stone said, his voice donning a fake, god-like quality that let them know he was in charge. "We are here to celebrate the life of Julia Peterson, who has passed on to be with our Lord and Savior. If you will please turn in your hymnals to page 311, we're going to begin the service by singing 'Amazing Grace.'"

The congregation obediently turned to the correct page and began the song. Everyone was secretly wondering if Julia, wherever she was, was laughing at them; she'd never been much for organs and raising a joyful noise unto the Lord. They were of the impression she would have preferred something more modern (maybe a little hip-hop?).

At last, the thousands of verses the song seemed to consist of were finished. Pastor Stone stood up again, an angelic, peaceful expression on his face. "I'm now going to allow Julia's mother, Alma Peterson, to speak."

Alma stood up; the room was silent as she took her place in front of them. "Good morning," she said nervously, not being much for public speaking. _Keep it together,_ she told herself sternly. _This is your daughter you're up here talking about. Tell it like it was: beautiful. _"I'd like to give you all an opportunity to share your stories and thoughts of Julia in a little while; indeed, that's the greatest thing we can do because it will keep her alive in our hearts. However, I'd like to talk for a few minutes first. As Pastor Stone said, I'm Julia's mother, Alma. Julia was my only daughter – my only child, in fact, and it makes sense, because any mother lucky enough to give birth to an angel like her can't follow something like that up." A few polite laughs floated through the congregation, and it put Alma at ease. "She had just turned 20 years old on November 7, legally an adult. She looked like one, she thought like one, and most of the time, she acted like one. But even as I say it out loud, it's hard to think of her that way: a full-grown woman. That's strange, you know. I think of her as a child, but as I'm sure most of you know, more often than not, it was Julia taking care of me. It's so easy for me to look at her short life and think that it's just not fair. She never got a chance to have fun; she was always busy preparing for a future that it turned out she never really got to experience in full. But my memories of her contradict that."

Alma paused and looked at everyone, Greg, especially. He looked nervous for her, like he was afraid she was losing her cool up there. She twitched the corners of her mouth upward for just a moment to let him know she was doing fine. "I'd like you all to close your eyes right now and think for a second about your memories of Julia," she requested. "Conjure up a picture of her in your mind. Is she smiling? Laughing? Enjoying herself? Nine times out of ten, every image that remains of Julia will be one of joy. Her life was pretty tough, but she was tougher, and even as we tell her good-bye today, we know that she didn't lose. _We_ lose. We lose if we choose to focus on everything that happened to her, and not what she did about it. We lose if we forget that she always somehow managed to turn things around for herself and for us. Whether you believe that we're here for a reason or we're just wasting time on earth, I think Julia's story can help us to live life a little more happily. It's not for me to decide what will help you learn to pick up the pieces of your world when it's shattered; you use your memories, I use mine. But ultimately, I believe she's taught us all that your circumstances can rob you of time; that's why you've got make up for it in everything you choose to do. Julia chose to make the remaining time in her life fun, and as a result of that, we've got many different stories of this beautiful girl that make this whole ordeal a little less painful and a little more fulfilling. I'd like to give you an opportunity now to share those stories if you so desire. If you'd rather keep some to yourself as a few precious moments that were just between you and Julia, feel free to do that as well. After I leave the mic and sit down, you may come and take my place to speak. Thank-you all for being here today."

As she stepped off the stage and walked back to her seat, Alma began shaking violently. _How in hell did I manage to say all of that and not cry?_ she wondered as she took her place beside House and buried her face in her hands.

"You okay?" he mouth.

She nodded fervently, not trusting her voice.

A girl named Alex, one of Julia's best friends, stood up and talked about her memories of their first day at elementary school. After that, Alma's sister, Sally, remembered the holidays that the Petersons had spent with her family (she carefully omitted the less pleasant aspects, such as all of the fiascos involving Len). Julia's first boyfriend, a tall, gangly kid with red hair and glasses named Ryan, recalled their first date: miniature golfing and ice cream at the age of twelve. Robert Chase gritted his teeth and managed to keep his cool; it was all House could do not to burst out laughing, as was the situation for everyone else in the row. It was amusing, yes, but it would be frightfully irreverent to acknowledge it as such. Eventually the ducklings decided that Julia would have wanted them to reminisce about the cross-dressing episode, and all three stood up and told the story. This earned them a thunderous standing ovation from several of Julia's high school friends (mostly guys, as Chase suspiciously observed), giggling from her girlfriends and extended family, and embarrassed smiles from the children in attendance, who didn't understand the whole concept of dressing opposite from one's sex but found it entertaining to think that these men had experienced the indignity of doing their hair and painting their nails, all the same. Even House, who had initially found the incident preposterous at best, cracked a smile. When it was clear that the pace was beginning to slow ever so slightly, Pastor Stone stood up and shooed a few people away from the microphone. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "We're running out of time so quickly."

_Yes, we are,_ House thought sadly. It was so strange and foreign to him; it seemed that these days, everything he took out of context could be related back to Julia. How long would it take to rid himself of _that_ habit?

"Before I speak, Julia Peterson's family has asked that a song be played in her memory. It's a bittersweet song, perfectly describing how such a tragedy can be a blessing in disguise. Without further ado, ladies and gentlemen, this is 'Beautiful,' sung by the lovely Amy Grant and her husband, Vince Gill." Richard Stone stepped into the shadows on the stage, trying not to detract from the powerful message the song would surely bring about.

_He sounds like Ryan Seacrest,_ House grumbled to himself. _This isn't a pageant!_

House had known Alma desperately wanted this particular song to be played at the funeral. He'd given the lyrics a fleeting glance without paying much attention and decided he didn't care whether she went ahead with it or not. Music, for him, was a release that he needed to participate in, not merely listen to. If it could help the rest of the simpletons – damn, there was that cynicism he was trying to rid himself of again – in the crowd find closure, that was fine, but it was going to take something more vibrant and real to reach him.

_I'm looking for a way to feel you hold me,  
__Feel your heart beat, just one more time.  
__Reaching back, trying to touch the moment,  
__Each precious minute, that you were mine.  
__How can you prepare, when you love someone this way,  
__To let them go a little more each day?_

The entire congregation had started out listening to the song slouched in their chairs, not wanting to face the more serious aspects of the reason why they were there. Now everyone was sitting up straighter, more alert, curious as to what else there was to be said.

_The stars we put in place,  
__The dreams we didn't waste,  
__The sorrows we embraced.  
__The world belonged to you and me.  
__The oceans that we crossed,  
__The innocence we lost,  
__The hurting at the end.  
__I'd go there again, 'cause it was beautiful.  
__It was beautiful._

House shifted in his seat uncomfortably, Alma began to tear up and rummaged around in her purse for tissues, James and Julie Wilson held each other's hand as they listened, and Cuddy buried her face in her hands and tried, unsuccessfully, to muffle her sobs. Cameron, Chase, and Foreman were more subdued in their reactions, but all their thoughts were every bit as real and piercing as the ones the others were experiencing. Chase blinked rapidly, Cameron swallowed hard, and Foreman uncrossed and then re-crossed his legs.

_Some days missing you is overwhelming  
__When it hits me: you're not coming back.  
__And in my darkest hours I had wondered,  
__Was it worth it, for the time we had?  
__My thoughts get kind of scattered, but one thing I know is true:  
__I blessed the day that I found you._

_Oh, no_, House thought. _Not again._ He glanced at his friends, and, seeing that they were all in the same predicament he was, breathed a sigh of relief and released a tear or two. _When did I turn into such a moronic sap?_ he asked himself, dismayed.

_The stars we put in place,  
__The dreams we didn't waste,  
__The sorrows we embraced.  
__The world belonged to you and me.  
__The oceans that we crossed,  
__The innocence we lost,  
__The hurting at the end.  
__I'd go there again, 'cause it was beautiful.  
__It was beautiful._

_The rules we stepped aside,  
__The fear that we defied,  
__The thrill of the ride,  
__The fire in our hearts that burned,  
__The oceans that we crossed,  
__The innocence we lost,  
__The hurting at the end.  
__I'd go there again, 'cause it was beautiful.  
__It was beautiful._

Cameron, who was sitting on his left, leaned over to him and whispered, "It's like it was written for her."

"Tell me about it," he replied quietly, looking away so she couldn't see the cold, wet tracks of his fallen tears. "That was a little _too_ close for comfort, but it was…ummm…"

"Beautiful?" Alma supplied tenderly.

House nodded. "Exactly."

* * *

It was cold outside and everything was still white from the snow on Christmas morning, but the sun was the only celestial presence in the sky, completely unadulterated by clouds, as Julia's family and close friends trekked through the cemetery to the columbarium where Julia's ashes would rest forever. The sermon given by Richard Stone was a blur to them all, especially House, but no one felt they'd missed anything important. 

The director of the cemetery, a Mr. Joseph Black, thanked them all for coming. Maybe twenty-five people in total were in attendance, a stark but strangely welcome contrast to the five hundred or so at the service. Indeed, this was a number they all could handle, and having so many familiar faces made the gathering more intimate and friendly – at least, as intimate and friendly as a funeral could possibly be.

Mr. Black gave yet another speech in addition to the rest that had already been heard that day, and although he wasn't as nearly as informed as Pastor Stone had been about Julia Peterson, it certainly seemed more genuine than anything the pastor had said. "And now, Mr. House, I see that you are holding the urn," he observed as he ended his speech.

"I am," he replied, wondering what that had to do with anything.

"Julia Peterson was your daughter?" Mr. Black asked kindly.

House swallowed. "Yes."

"Would you like to be the one to put her ashes to rest?"

This time without hesitation, he nodded briskly and said yes.

Mr. Black nodded to his assistant to set up a footstool and then pointed at a cubby-hole covered by a small green curtain in the columbarium. "Take your time," he said quietly so no one else would hear. "I know this is hard."

Gregory House positioned his cane against the stool and slowly stepped upward. He pushed the curtain aside and held the urn tight to his chest for a moment before placing it inside. "I'm gonna miss you," he mumbled, his hand resting on top where her name and dates of birth and death were etched. He ran his fingers across her name. _Julia Louise Peterson_. A beautiful name, a beautiful life.

House, worried that if he stood there anymore, he might begin to wish to die himself so he could stay with her forever, pulled the curtain over the hole and stepped off the footstool. He took his cane in his hands, but it did nothing to stop him from stumbling as he blindly made his way back into the crowd, hoping the ambiguity of a larger gathering would not be lost with so few people there to hide him. But instead of anonymity, he fell into a circle of friends, all as broken and wounded as he was. They all came closer to him and blended into one huge, mournful mess of all manner of weeping. Alma Peterson, Lisa Cuddy, James and Julie Wilson, Allison Cameron, Robert Chase, Eric Foreman, and Gregory House embraced each other, and it was impossible to tell where one person ended and another began. Even as grief overcame them and drained them of every last drop of water, air, and sorrow in them, it was clear that things were already getting better. In places that no one, not even the most brilliant doctor could see, they were healing.

* * *

Thanks for reading! The last bit of _Father House_ will be up shortly! I hope…

Also, the song I used, "Beautiful," is by Amy Grant, as said in the story. Normally, I don't listen to her that much, but my mom was playing it in the car one day, and I was all, "Hmmm, that's a really pretty song. I wonder what I could do with it..." And this is what happened.

And to say that I've been disclaiming faithfully...I don't own House.


	28. Epilogue: Letter From Heaven

THIS IS IT! THIS IS THE FINAL INSTALLMENT OF _FATHER HOUSE!_

It's been fun, ya'all. Keep it real.

Just so you know, this chapter isn't meant to resemble anything on my beliefs about whatever afterlife may or may not exist. I chose to do it this way because it made the most sense for the things I wanted to say. Also, I did this one in a…different perspective than the rest of the chapters have been. Let me know how this one works out, okay? Thanks!

Epilogue: Letter From Heaven

* * *

_I was Julia Peterson._

_It's been a year, to the day, since I died. It's taken quite some time to adjust to this strange state of death, and it will take more before I'm ever truly at peace with it. But like anything else, the journey was half the fun. One of the biggest misconceptions is that dying is a terrifying process, but I don't see it that way. Maybe it's because I was blessed enough to have time to grow into it, to get in those last few things I'd always meant to do, say my good-byes, come to terms with the whole idea. It was sad, naturally, but not at all like you'd think it would feel: painful, hopeless, frightening. Death can be, and has been, described as any number of things; for me, it was an adventure. A very grand adventure._

_Overall, I'm quite pleased with the way things have turned out for everyone. Dad proposed to Allison on that New Year's Eve, and surprisingly, she asked for time to consider it. It was all too much, too fast, she said. They waited a month, he asked again, and she realized what a fool she was being and said yes. They had a June wedding – it wasn't an extravagant affair, relatively simple and understated for such a celebration, but it didn't diminish the meaning of it at all. They make a hilarious couple - not your usual newlyweds, to be sure, but the love is there and that's all they need. James and Julie, I'm pleased to say, are working through their marital issues and have a baby to call their own now – a son named Matthew. He's healthy and happy and has one of the best, if somewhat comically inexperienced, pairs of parents in existence. Mom's doing really well; she hasn't taken a sip of alcohol in over a year, is seeing an incredibly nice man that would never hurt her (third time's a charm), and still talks to Dad often. She even keeps up with Robert from time to time; I think she's slowly soothing the wounds his own mother left behind by becoming a story of success. I worry about him sometimes. Often, when I see him, he'll be staring at a picture of us from my twentieth birthday with this melancholy expression on his face, or he'll read the poem he wrote for me (or attempted to, anyway – poor boy, for being a such a brilliant doctor, his ability with words is amusing at best) that he thought I'd never find out about and get misty-eyed, or sometimes he'll touch the beautiful Christmas gift he never got to give me, a 14-karat gold canary yellow diamond necklace, and his fingers will linger too long. It's times like these when I have to give up the charade and admit that heaven isn't paradise if I know he's hurting so much. More than anything, I wish he'd just forget about me and find someone else to give so much of his heart to. I wish he wouldn't feel guilty about living while I'm not. Still, he's coming along, slowly but surely. Eric, I think, came around the quickest of all of them, and he gives me hope that they're all going to pull through. I'm so glad they have someone as levelheaded and intelligent as he is to remind them that generally when you turn the pages on a calendar, it's not backward but forward that you move them. As for Dr. Cuddy, she makes sure things are running smoothly and that the workplace romance between Dad and Allison doesn't disrupt the flow of the hospital. Initially I'd been worried that she wouldn't know how to handle Dad after everything was said and done, but I was wrong. She's as patient as ever – possibly more – and gives him room to be himself, all the while faithfully standing by to lend a hand. _

_I haven't seen Len here, so I'm assuming that he never did anything_ _redeeming in his life to make up for his transgressions. Although I feel a minimal bitterness towards him now, it gives me comfort to know that he is doing penance for everything he did. Somehow, I know that long before I came into his life, someone must have hurt him the way he hurt me. Someone must have told him he was worthless, beat him until he wished he was dead, stolen his innocence before he could understand what he was losing. I'll always feel sorry for him because of this; no one learns to be as cruel as he was without an example to model. There's not a reason in the world he should have taken his anger out on me, though. Two wrongs have not, do not, and will not equal a right. Wherever he is, he should know that he's finally been forgiven but not at all forgotten. He is remembered for exactly what he was; this should not make him proud._

_But what of me? What have I become?_

_I'm still Julia Peterson; the only difference between me during life and me now is that I'm not sick, I can't be hurt here, and I am so lonely, possibly more than I've ever felt. _

_I never thought I'd end up saying that, but it's true. Mom was right: I'm nothing without the people in my life. Here in heaven, the idea that you get everything you could possibly want is bullshit. You only get the things that are in good clean fun and that won't affect the world of the living. Well, the only things that can truly make me happy are people, people that are still blessed (or cursed, depending on how you look at it) with living on the planet earth. Here in this strange, new place – dimension, actually, if you want to get technical about it – I'm merely passing the time until I see them again._

_Not that I want to see them here, not for a very long time, at least. Just because I'm dead doesn't mean they need to follow me into the grave. I want them to understand this, if nothing else. They can't know what a joy it is to see them alive and well. Yes, more than anything, I want more time with them, just as everyone will want more time with their loved ones someday. I want more time to tease Dad about being married to a woman who's young enough to be my sister, to be the first person James and Julie call once they decide they need a baby-sitter, to give Mom a hard time about the new guy, to giggle with Allison and laugh with Eric and kiss Robert and joke with Lisa. I ran out of time…on earth, that is. Although I'll never be able to experience human life with all of its amenities again, heaven offers second chances to everyone, even those that never thought they'd need them. That's the good thing about heaven: once you're in, it's eternal. I have eternity to find them again, and it's worth the wait. If you look at it very carefully from just the right perspective, I think you might find that it's possible to say I have all the time in the world. That makes all the difference._

_I wish you nothing but the best. All my love, Julia._

* * *

…So tell me. Was having the whole thing in italics distracting:P You laugh, but I'm serious. It looks fine on good ole Microsoft Word, but maybe when I post it, things will be different…

Haha, well, naturally you didn't think you'd get away this quickly. I'm asking for your help…again. You see, while I was on vacation, I ended up getting SO bored that I read over all 200-odd reviews you all have been gracious enough to be bestow upon me in addition to every single chapter of _Father House._ It was like watching a train wreck. Some of it was okay, I'll admit (oh, the agony!), but a lot of it made me wonder what I was thinking when I posted it. I have compiled a list of things I need to remember in future stories. Read it over, if you'd like; see if I got everything. If you leave a review, feel free to add more.

1) No more House/Cam! (Or really, any form of romance.) I'm sorry, but I don't see how they're ever going to work out on the show; they're too vastly different, and I definitely don't do them justice when I try to work them out together. Plus, writing about love is best left to those who have been lucky enough to experience it. Hangs head forlornly That's not me.

2) Read dialogue out loud. I got this suggestion from someone who clearly knows what he's talking about, and it really does help! (Although it's difficult to get my parents out of the study so I can do it alone – they're not of the variety that enjoys fan-fiction and _House, M.D._)

3) Wait a day or two before posting. I need to give myself some time to read over my chapters with fresh eyes – I could have avoided everything from minor grammatical errors to major issues with the plot, medical facts that played a huge role, and lots of other things.

4) Don't be swayed by what you think people want! When the idea for this random story first popped into my head, it was never my intention to make it a House/Cam, or have that random thing in there with Wilson and Julia, or anything like that. (Chase/Julia was bound to happen, though. :P) But the more I read other fics on the site before I started posting, the more I wondered if I'd actually get any _nice_ reviews if I didn't do the House/Cam thing. So I thought, "Well, hell, I'll give it a try." In the end, it worked out nicely (or tolerably, anyway), but it makes me wonder what I could have done if I had stuck with my own ideas.

5) That being said, reviews are there to help the writer! So far I haven't been too bad about this (I don't think), but I must always remember that no one (hopefully) is saying something to be a jerk. Constructive criticism is a way of saying, "You're a good writer. Here's how you can be a great one." It's a good thing to take what other people have to say to heart, especially when they're more experienced, more talented, and are not biased to your own work like you are. ("You" meaning "me," of course.)

6) Cursing, when used in excess, detracts from the story. I know this is a verrrrrrrrrrrry controversial issue (though slightly insignificant in the shadow of other verrrrrrrrrrrry controversial issues), but let me say this: I have nothing against swearing. I'm fine with it. Sometimes it's quite fun. But in earlier chapters, I went a little crazy with it. I stuck profanity where it just wasn't needed, and in reading it over, it kind of detracted from the other elements of the scenes. During scenes of high emotion, yeah, it's natural that some characters might let something slip. During normal conversations, however, that doesn't happen quite as much. I know some people got a little offended by my excessive usage of obscenity (sorry, again), and I want you all to know I'm making every effort to cure my potty-mouth. Or at least get it under control.

Like I said, anything else you want me to remember? Even if it's something you've got to repeat to make sure I get it, let me at it. And if I've done anything well (hmmm, that would be nice, if I had), it would be pretty sweet if you could find it in your heart to point it out so I can do more of the same.

(Here comes the Miss America part of the whole thing – while I get my tiara and tissues, you can quietly sneak away if you don't want to hear all about my gratitude and world peace and fluffy things like that. :P)

Thank-you so much for reading! I know I've been saying this all along, but I meant it every time and will continue to mean it as long as I'm writing. It means a lot to me that you spent so much time studying this random story I've been laboring over and faithfully telling me how it's looking. You've made a sixteen-year-old kid who believes writing is a dream that will probably go unrealized for her feel like a bestselling author (oh, Lord, even _I_ think that's lame). I've enjoyed this more than you will ever know.

Sorry, you'll have to excuse the crazy, sentimental statement above. First fan-fic.

Lots of love!

Cara/house-of-insanity

P.S. Ooh! I thought of another one already! Things I need to remember when writing fan-fiction number seven: author's notes shouldn't be longer than the chapter they accompany. Sounds good, right?


End file.
